


And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop

by witblogi



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Injury, Bonding, Frottage, M/M, Mating Bites, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/pseuds/witblogi
Summary: FBI Agent Evgeni Malkin comes to a small town in Maine to investigate a string of gruesome unexplained deaths, but finds himself perplexed and preoccupied with the dreamy, yet suspicious, sheriff instead.





	And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vestigialstell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vestigialstell/gifts).



> To vestigialstell: This wasn't on your list of wants, but hopefully it touches on a few of the tropes you enjoy! 
> 
> I've tagged for Depictions of Violence and Blood and Gore, this is a fic that deals with the supernatural and a string of deaths, I've tried not to be specific with any details that could get too gross but BE WARNED there are _SOME._
> 
> Big thanks to [rainswept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainswept) for the solid beta and relentless hand holding. 
> 
> Finally, thank you to [creaturesofnarative](http://creaturesofnarrative.tumblr.com)/[knifeshoeoreofight](https://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com) for allowing me to use their werewolf au concept! The original post/idea [can be found HERE!](https://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/post/174324521354/fairy-tale-au-and-detective-au)

The drive was long and boring. The last leg was pretty, no doubt, but Geno was used to the bustle of the city. The bureau always had something happening, something to accomplish, someone to ask about an assignment, some paperwork to get filed, _something_ to distract you from your own thoughts. But now it was just him and Nealer and Nealer’s shitty taste in music for an entire twelve hours.

He wanted to curl up in the seat and sleep the whole drive away, sleep so many things away, but any time he closed his eyes he was just plummeted back into his thoughts and his _feelings_. And _fuck_ feelings honestly. He’d been dealing with them for too long now. 

“Welcome to Forks, Maine. Population 3,460,” Nealer read off the faded sign on the side of the road, it looked well maintained, numbers updated regularly, grass trimmed, but clearly old. Everything around here seemed like that, cared for and in working condition but worn - well loved. 

“Hey,” Nealer grinned extending one elbow towards him while he drove, glancing over for his reaction, “do you think we’re going to run into any vampires? Huh? _In Forks?_ ” 

Geno rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, “Only thing we going to run into is your bad taste in movie.” He uncurled slightly from his previous fold in the passenger seat, so ready to get out and stretch his legs. 

“I’ll have you know, I read the book,” Nealer said with his nose in the air, like reading popular YA fiction was the height of culture. 

“Not better, Lazy,” Geno snorted “beside, _that_ Forks in Washington.” 

“HA! You’re no better than me. I read it with my niece. What’s your excuse, huh?” He deftly turned the car into the parking lot of the dingy but functional Motel 8 they’d be setting up shop in for the next however long. 

Geno was taking too long to answer, throat thick and unable to make any noise. He was angry with himself for still hesitating like this. It had been almost a year, all his memories shouldn’t still feel so bruise-fresh. It was too late, Nealer had already parked and turned to look at him, brows pulled into a concerned furrow.

“Ah, shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine. Should be able to talk about by now. Saw with - Ex. Very terrible movie, but very good day.” They had watched it together on a rainy day, throwing popcorn at each other and laughing at the intensely awkward dialogue and peeing themselves at the even worse Russian dub. 

“Yeah, the whole thing was pretty shit, wasn’t it?” Geno didn’t know if he was talking about the movie or what happened, but it didn’t matter, it was all shit so he just nodded in agreement, and took the awkward moment to pop the door open and lunge gratefully into the fresh air.

—

Forks, Maine was an ordinary sleepy town full of the regular characters you’d find in small towns like it: the local gossipy old ladies, the one bakery that made the really good coffee, the grumpy owner of the gas station annoyed by kids buying slurpees all day, the grocery store that probably had employed every teenager in the town over the years. The town made its summer money on the tourists that rolled through, visiting the nearby hiking trails, going white water rafting and visiting the picturesque Forks Falls. It had one high school, a lookout point, and a defunct water tower displaying the town’s name and an impossibly beautiful county sheriff. 

Geno hadn’t really been expecting Sidney Crosby to really be in his early thirties, despite knowing he was born in 1987, and he definitely wasn’t prepared for him to be so attractive. It’s just, when he and Nealer were first assigned the Forks case to look into, there was a suspicious lack of information about the area and its local law enforcement. He hadn’t been able to find even one photo of S. Crosby, no media shots, no database headshot, let alone any social media presence - odd for someone so young. So Geno had thought maybe it was a typo, like maybe Crosby was actually born in 1978 or maybe he was just some kind of bridge-troll-like-person, allergic to fun, friends and photos. 

Instead, when they arrived at the local sheriff’s station the next morning, looking exactly like the slick feds they were and sticking out terribly in their black suits, he was greeted by a ridiculously beautiful man the right age and fitting the basic description on file. It hadn’t done him any justice though, Crosby was stocky, thickly muscled but not overly beefy. He looked strong, competent, and commanding. He had clear, quick eyes, a hazel colour that shifted in the light and a thick head of dark hair that if left to grow just a touch longer would probably curl attractively around his ears and at his nape. His skin was preternaturally clear and flushed around the cheeks and ears, and his lips were - Geno snapped his eyes back to Crosby’s strange eyes, if he spent any more time looking at Crosby’s sinfully red mouth he was going to cross into inappropriate territory. It had been some time since he found himself so immediately attracted to anyone.

Crosby seemed friendly, if guarded. “We’re happy to assist you with anything regarding your investigation,” he said, “but if you’ve read our most recent report we’re pretty sure the deaths have been caused by a particularly vicious black bear in the area. We’re working with local Fish and Wildlife authorities to try and deal with it.” 

Geno took the file that Crosby was holding out to them, suspiciously thin considering they were looking at multiple bloody crime scenes including grisly-looking bodies found in the woods just off the trails. 

“Thank you for your cooperation. As you know, we’re required to conduct our own investigation, but we’ll try not to get in you or your deputies’ ways,” Nealer said, surveying the small bullpen where various brown uniformed deputies were working at their desks, filing reports or following up on calls. 

“For sure, let me know if you need any space to work, here,” Crosby gestured to a couple of desks that were pushed against the wall, unused for the moment. “And tell Flower hello for me when you go visit him.” 

“Flower?” Geno asked, drawing Crosby’s attention solely to him. He felt suddenly as if he was under a microscope. 

“Our medical examiner, and lab tech Marc-Andre Fleury. He also runs the local garden centre - Flower’s just a nick name. Word of advice? He likes to play practical jokes.” 

“Ah, thanks we’ll be sure to be on the look out for any buckets of water above doors. Say, where’s the best place to get a cup of coffee around here?” Nealer asked with his usual friendly gusto, but Crosby didn’t look away from Geno and Geno refused to blink first. 

“Horny’s on 8th is the best in town, Patric will make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Only when they were back in the car did Geno feel like the weight of Crosby’s eyes were finally off of him. 

“What do you think about the black bear thing?” Nealer muttered opening the file even as he was buckling his seatbelt. 

“Garbage.” Geno pulled the car out of the lot, maybe a little too fast, but he felt strange and wanted to get out of there, so sue him. “Smell like bear-shit.”

Nealer snorted, “Yeah, I don’t like it, it just seems too convenient. And the speed at which this ‘bear’ was moving through New York and New Hampshire? I don’t buy it.” He closed the file, “What do you think they’re hiding?” 

“Maybe they as Lazy as you. Cover up bad police work.” 

“Hey!” 

—

After a bite to eat and a thorough review of the scant case file provided by Crosby, they set up their base of operations in Geno’s motel room. It was simple work, taking down the one sad pastel watercolour painting of a lighthouse to commandeer the wall behind the desk/table as their case board. Suspects were normally taped up with photos if they had them - nothing so far as they had no real leads. Just the weird local police and a few missing persons reports from the surrounding states and counties. Those reports went up next, along with a few choice crime scene photos, coroners reports, plus a map of the area with the most recent crime-scenes marked on it. 

“We’ve got jack shit, don’t we?” Nealer tossed what was left of their files down on the desk, careless of the way it slid into the wall, and stepped back to survey their work. Geno sat down heavily on the cheap motel bedspread. 

“Looks like lot of nothing.” he agreed, tilting his head and squinting at the wall, “but not bear.” 

“Whoever or whatever is doing this is seriously deranged though.” Nealer crossed his arms and turned to look at Geno, “Every body has been completely ripped to shreds. What’s the point? Bears don’t repeatedly attack like this, and if it was angry or hungry enough to do something like this, we’d be missing more body parts.” 

“Think tomorrow, time to visit ‘Flower’ – see what Crosby’s man try and feed us.” Geno got up with a stretch ready to call it an early day. He wanted to get a run in before dinner and try to solidify the layout of the town in his mind. 

“Coroners are all weird and creepy,” Nealer muttered, gathering up his suit jacket and heading for the door to his adjoining room. 

“Good thing this one gardener too, know best place for bury body.” Geno headed for his suitcase, lugging it up onto the bed and unzipping it to pull out his running clothes and sneakers. 

“That’s not comforting!” The door closed softly between their rooms and Geno quickly divested himself of his suit and re-dressed in shorts and a hoodie, trading his dress socks for sweat socks and lacing up his shoes, already thinking of what music he would pick to listen to, what route he wanted to take through the town, and what was actually killing people in the woods. 

He spent a little time stretching in the parking lot of the motel, and was getting his earbuds comfortably situated, when he suddenly keenly felt eyes on the back of his neck. He looked around him for any observers, checking the windows of the other motel rooms for twitching curtains but there was nothing - no one around, no one he could see watching him. This town just had a weird vibe.

His run took him on a circuit of the town, down main street where he nodded at the old men who waved, and the young mothers who smiled at a new face in town, past the church, complete with cemetery, through a quaint - if a little run down- historic neighbourhood, around to the edge of the park/preserve where most of the trails ran and back to the main strip heading into town where their motel was located. 

He paused only twice. In the neighbourhood he stood on a corner, deciding if he wanted to continue straight or turn left when the house he was in front of caught his eye. It looked like something out of a story book, a witch’s house maybe, with a luxuriant overgrown front garden contained by a wrought iron fence - victorian looking architecture lurking behind all the greenery - it was sagging in places but clearly with a little bit of love it could be absolutely beautiful. The lock on the gate and the way some of the windows were broken or hanging oddly spoke to it being abandoned and Geno felt regretful for the old house - it looked like somewhere a family should be settling and making a home for themselves, it didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. 

_It’s a house, Zhenya. It doesn’t have feelings. It’s just like you to feel sorry for a rotting pile of shingles, you’re a bleeding heart until the end, hm?_

He blinked at the house, his fantasy of it being well loved fading away as his heart did a painful flop in his chest. That familiar voice in his head, he wondered when it would ever go away, teasing him lovingly, condescendingly. He started running again, taking the left and leaving the house behind. 

The second pause came while skirting the preserve. That feeling of being watched fell over him again; the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at once. It was stronger this time, strong enough to make him falter in his step and whip around on the path ready to confront whoever had snuck up on him. There was no one in sight again; he ripped his earbuds out of his ears to try to get his bearings on the situation. But all he could hear were the distant sounds of the town, the wind in the trees and his own breathing. He spun in a slow circle, heart beating hard. 

His eyes caught on a shadow in the trees, unmoving but unexplained. He squinted at it from where the late afternoon light was shining in his eyes, holding his hand up to his forehead to cast some shade. It almost looked like, if he squinted - he took a step off the path towards the shadowed trees. It had eyes shining dimly out at him. 

“Hello?” He called, about to take another step into the shade proper, but there was a rustling behind him and deep excited barking. He turned back to the path, seeing a large dog in the thinner trees darting after - maybe a stick? Something. He looked back to the shadow but when he faced it again there was nothing out of the ordinary there. The feeling of being watched was basically gone. 

He tucked one earbud back into his ear, and picked up his jog once more, rolling his shoulders to shake the tension that had fallen over him. He turned his head, looking for the dog and its owner but saw nothing of them at all. That was weird, clearly he needed more experience in this area if he could so easily get turned around or lose entire people. He tried to remember if he saw the owner of the dog before but couldn’t recall - he must have, the dog had been running after a stick. 

His stomach growled as he turned back onto the main strip leading into town once again, just in time to see what Nealer wanted to rustle up for dinner then. 

—

_“If Lundqvist gave two shits about what was actually happening in his territory instead of playing at being some kind of king constantly, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Crosby’s voice said, but it came from his mouth, he was Crosby, and maybe he wasn’t speaking English - or Russian._

_“You can’t blame this all on Lundqvist, Chara wasn’t exactly on top of things either.” A handsome deputy with piecey hair that fell in his face said back to him as Crosby, and he definitely wasn’t speaking English._

_“It doesn’t matter now. Whatever this is, is causing enough trouble, crossing state lines and getting hot young feds involved.” Crosby felt pissed, irritated, flustered maybe._

_“It appears I’ve arrived just in time, does this ‘hot young fed’ have a name?” Another man appeared, grin wide and bright in his narrow face._

_“Flower, c’mon, that’s not what I meant-”_

_“Malkin.” The handsome one smirked, “I think that’s the one Sid’s turning pink over.”_

_“That’s not-“ Crosby felt embarrassed, a touch pleased, face hot._

_“Is he tall?” Flower turned completely to the handsome one, ignoring Crosby entirely._

_“Oh yeah. Beep-Beep.”_

_“Beep-Beep.”_

_“BEEP-BEEP.”_

Geno woke with a start, slapping at his alarm on his phone and dropping his face back into his pillow. He frowned into the starchy smell of the motel linens, remembering the dream he’d just had. He was Crosby? He was Crosby while his …friends? Colleagues? Gossiped about…himself as Geno? Mark that one down as one of the more egotistical and meta dreams he’d ever had. 

He took a shower sluggishly, mulling over the dream. Usually his dreams were in a steady rapid Russian, even the people in it who shouldn’t or wouldn’t speak Russian all spoke it fluently. This time however - he tipped his face into the steady stream of water - he wasn’t even sure what language it had been at all, maybe Spanish? That made zero sense. Less sense than dreaming from Crosby’s point of view. 

They were going to visit the medical examiner today, Crosby had called him Flower earlier, and then again in his dream when talking about the tall, thin man with dark eyes and a huge smile. Usually Geno didn’t dream about anyone he hadn’t seen before, there was a cast of regular characters that got recycled through, extras in his life from the grocery store or his condo complex. To invent a person entirely to fit a name…he’d never done that before. Maybe whatever starchy detergent they used on the sheets in this motel was giving off fumes still. 

Nealer was already banging around his room, their adjoining doors thrown open, complaining about how the coffee maker in his room was broken when Geno stepped out of the bathroom. This whole trip was going to be living in each others pockets, he just knew it. 

When they turned up at the medical examiners office they were mostly puzzled to find that the address listed was also what appeared to be a veterinary clinic. Inside was the usual assortment of a handful of people hanging around with their animals, treat jars on the counter, charts on the walls about what to do if your animal eats poison - nothing that really betrayed that this was more than a vet’s office. 

“I’m sorry, are we in the wrong place? We’re looking for Doctor Marc-André Fleury?” Nealer asked the receptionist in bone patterned scrubs and glasses while flashing his ID badge. 

“Nope, you’re in the right place, Flower will be out in a minute, I let him know when you arrived.” he smiled sunnily at them, “he’s been expecting you.” 

“He M.E., gardener _and_ vet?” Geno couldn’t resist asking, slipping a toe onto the large dog scale in the waiting room. 

“No, Doctor Murray is the vet,” the receptionist said, “we just share the rent and some facilities - similar space and equipment requirements. There’s not that many deaths in this area so to have a full Medical Examiners office is a little bit of an overkill - uh, no pun intended.” He looked shifty, nervous, but that was probably just his nature. His name tag read CONOR with a paw print beside it, he looked young and was probably more used to dealing with sick hamsters not Federal Agents. 

“Special Agents!” 

Geno turned and froze at the appearance of the man who had spoken, who was already introducing himself to Nealer. He was exactly the same as the person he’d dreamt up for Flower that morning. He desperately tried to think back, wondering if he’d seen him somewhere in the last day and just somehow matched the face to the name - or maybe a photo in the case files?

“Marc-Andre! You can call me Flower however, most everyone does.” He had an accent - French Canadian. That explained the language they were speaking in the dream: French. His name certainly sounded French, so maybe he’d just…inferred? 

“James Neal,” Nealer shook his outstretched hand and turned back to gesture to Geno, “This is Agent Malkin.” Geno shuffled forward to shake Flower’s newly free hand. 

“Does Agent Malkin have a first name?” Geno could have sworn Flower gave him a once over, not in a predatorily but assessing, like when you meet a good friend’s new beau. Despite the dream having been nothing like this, he felt a sickening lurch of déjà vu none the less. 

“Evgeni. Can call Geno, most everyone does,” he said dumbly, parroting Flower’s words back to him. Flower laughed like Geno had made a clever joke and released his hand. 

“Russian. Not a lot of those around here. Not a lot of those in the FBI either, probably.” He was fishing. Geno had experienced it enough by now: people wary of him working for the government just because he sounded different, like he’s some kind of KGB sleeper agent. 

“No, not really.” His tone brooked no arguments, but Flower didn’t seem offended in the slightest, merely clapped his hands together once. 

“Well, let’s get to it.” He gestured back to the door through which he’d arrived. They followed him back through a short hallway leading to kennels, supply closets, what looked like an expansive morgue kind of room with several metal tables, and finally into what was clearly his office, considering the lack of any animal anatomy posters. 

“Help yourself to coffee.” He gestured again to a small sideboard set up with a coffeemaker and a mini fridge - Nealer gratefully headed straight over, having only had a very unsatisfactory mini motel cup before they’d headed out for the day. Geno watched Flower as he moved over to a filing cabinet against the opposite wall. He pulled a key out from his lanyard to unlock it, and glanced back at Nealer slyly, while the drawer clunked open. 

Geno remembered suddenly what Crosby had said about Flower’s penchant for pranks and halted Nealer’s progress with the sugar shaker before he got a chance to doctor his coffee with it. He poured a little into his palm first and tasted it - salt.

“Ah! Who warned you?” Flower exclaimed, hip checking the cabinet closed, files he was looking for in hand. Nealer was frowning down at his coffee, looking betrayed, “Wait, don’t tell me, I _know_ it was Sid. He’s never been good at practical jokes. No matter, I’ll get him back for it later. The actual sugar, and tea if you want it, is in that wolf sculpture.” 

He pointed with one elbow to a navy-coloured ceramic howling-wolf cookie jar on the other side of the coffeemaker. Nealer warily cracked it open, but made a happy noise at the promised sugar cubes held within. 

Once they’d all settled into their respective chairs on either side of Flower’s desk it was clearly time to get down to business considering for the first time since they’d met (even in strange dream spaces) that the M.E. stopped smiling as he slid a file forward between them. 

“Normally I would show investigating agents the physical evidence - in this case the bodies found around Forks that I have in my custody. In this instance however,” he flipped open the file and pulled out a glossy photo, spinning it so they could see it right side up, “as you can see we weren’t working with much. What’s left of the bodies isn’t…palatable for most.” The gruesome photo was enough to convince Geno, and he looked away pointedly. Nealer picked up the photo to examine it more closely. He was the one who handled the more macabre details, he had an iron clad stomach and an ability to divorce himself from emotional entanglement in cases in most instances. Geno envied him on more than one occasion for getting a good nights’ sound sleep while they were working serious cases. 

Of course every weakness was also a strength, and Geno excelled himself far beyond Nealer in the realm of reading people. He could pick up emotions, intentions, tone of voice, lies, shared communicative looks between people as easy as breathing. He’d always been intuitive and empathetic, _romantic_. He wouldn’t change it, even if maybe being less in tune with his and others’ emotions would save him from a long history of heart ache. 

“I can go over any questions you may have about the evidence and the victims, now. I’ll try to answer as truthfully as I can.” Flower went on, his eyes earnest and face serious. It was small things like that, that Geno ended up turning over in his mind. The way Flower said ‘as truthfully as I can’ instead of something else more committed or even something more vague. Instead it implied that there were things he might hide from them for reasons he wasn’t willing to divulge. 

He mulled over the phrasing and listened carefully to how Flower answered the rest of their questions but he didn’t pick up on anything else during their interview. 

Increasingly, despite his best intentions to pay close attention he found his mind filling with cotton wool, drifting from the point a little too easily for his liking. It was strange, he didn’t feel tired, or bored, there was no real reason he had to keep refocusing his attention so pointedly. He resorted to taking notes in notebook to keep from completely forgetting the plot of what they were talking about. 

The minute they were out of the office and back in the waiting room with all the dogs the fog cleared, and he was as alert and attentive as he had felt originally. 

“Was it hot in that little office?” Nealer loosened his tie and looked down at the file he’d brought and added to with Flower’s copies, “I was seriously thinking about just curling up under the desk and taking a nap a few times in there.” 

“Not hot, strange feeling.” Geno held open the door for a trio of dachshunds and their grateful owner with a smile, “whole town little bit strange feeling.” 

—

The whole town feeling was a general _vibe_. It wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ vibe, just weird. It was something they couldn’t quite pin down and identify for sure what it was. Most of the people were kind, or kind and zany in that small town granola kind of way. It usually came with living in a place where the hottest gossip still came from the beauty salon and one ‘active in the community’ aunty’s facebook page. There were just certain things they couldn’t explain, things beyond the case. 

The feeling he got in the woods, the way they couldn’t explain how they’d both felt drowsy and lacklustre in Flower’s office, the way Sheriff Crosby’s eyes seemed to glow with inner light. 

They decided to try to find ‘Horny’s’ that Crosby had recommended, for lunch. Amusingly enough they when they did find it, it was a bakery that was actually called _Isabella’s_. It was run by a cherubic looking and boisterous man who insisted they call him Horny - his nickname. He had named the small coffee and bake shop for his daughter. 

He was excited to tell them all the gossip in town currently about themselves, and insisted he would guess what they would like for their first meal in his establishment. He was firm and exuberant and seemed harmless enough so Geno picked out a small table by the front window with a good view of the street to camp out and wait for their food at. 

He stretched out his legs under his half of the table and enjoyed looking at the foot traffic outside, small children getting escorted here and there by their parents, dogs being walked, seniors strolling arm in arm. Despite the inherent off-putting feelings that seemed to be stirred up by Forks, it looked idyllic. 

When Horny finally bustled over to them, first cup and plate in tow he was grinning even wider than usual, like treating newcomers to a surprise was his absolute favourite part of the job. Geno decided he liked this weird man, anyone who got so much joy out of something so innocent couldn’t be bad - and besides the whole establishment smelled delicious and warm like a hug from a mother. 

“You look like an apple pie kind of man!” Horny said upon delivering a plate and cup with saucer to set before Nealer. He was then bustling off to retrieve Geno’s own surprise before explaining anything further. Geno watched Nealer shrug and slice the side of his fork through the crispy top layer of crust into the sticky apples below. He paused mid bite, eyes snapping to where Horny was approaching them once more with another plate and mug.

“This tastes - how did you…?” Nealer took another bite with wide disbelieving eyes. “It tastes exactly like my nana’s apple pie.” Horny smiled and clapped him on the back when he’d set Geno’s down carefully. 

“I’m glad you like it! Had a feeling you would!” He left them then, with a twinkle in his eye and a pat on the shoulder for Geno. It was only then that Geno looked at what had been left for him. Beside what looked and smelled to be a mug of strong tea was one simple vatrushka. It couldn’t be anything else, the pastry wasn’t very popular outside of Russian communities that he’d found, and yet this one was presented to him now like it was a regular every day menu item. He looked over at where Nealer looked like he was having some kind of religious experience, and pulled out his phone to remind himself to email his grandma later. 

He let his gaze return to the vatrushka. 

He took a bite. As suspected, it was exactly as he remembered from his childhood, scarfing down rich pastries on his grandmother’s knee, towheaded and long limbed. It was strange, usually the authentic tovrog required for making the vatrushka couldn’t be found easily, usually only large urban centres with a decent population of Russians managed to import the right stuff, and even then it was dicey what kind of quality the vatrushka ended up being. This one however - it was perfect. 

He withheld himself from emulating Nealer’s display of gluttony, savouring the small taste of home for as long as possible while continuing his surveillance of the road outside. The tea as well was perfect, like it’d been properly made using a samovar and sweetened with a thick jam. It truly felt like he was sitting in Russia after a very long painful absence, like an unexpected gift. He felt his heart catching in his throat at the mere thought.

Curious, Flower had said there weren’t many Russians around here, yet somehow Horny had managed to give him a taste of home without even exchanging more than a few words. He hadn’t even known he was in the mood for Vatrushka until it was passing through his lips.

Even more astonishing perhaps was how Horny had accurately predicted Nealer’s desires as well, judging by the way he was practically licking the plate and now finally suspiciously eyeing the coffee in his cup like it was perhaps hiding something from him by just sitting there.

“This place is so weird,” Nealer finally said, relenting and taking a slurp of the coffee, face contorting all over again as it held some kind of unspoken significance to him as well, “But I think I could get used to it if the food’s gonna be this good.” he groaned into the cup. 

Geno smiled in amusement and looked out the widow again. Across the street in the shadow between two buildings was what could only be a dog. It was large and black and staring straight back at him. It didn’t look like it was with anyone, nor did it appear to be tied to anything nearby. Geno puzzled at it, the second dog he’d seen in so many days without an obvious owner. Did Forks have a stray problem? That was upsetting, he couldn’t bear to think about all the unloved dogs and other domestic animals in the world without a proper home. 

“Shit, that’s some good joe.” Nealer cursed, setting his now empty cup down with a clatter, the phone in his hand, already drawing his attention. 

When Geno looked back at the dog, to see if maybe it looked thirsty and wanted some water, it was gone. He looked quickly up and down the street but there was no sign of the animal, hopefully it was returning home where it belonged. 

“I think we need to go over everything one more time with new notes from Doctor Fleury in mind and if nothing is still popping for new leads then tomorrow we’ll split up.” Nealer drew his attention back to their table where he was leafing through the new file documents. 

“How you want to split?” 

“Most of this is old school, and hand written. Towns like this, they’re months if not years behind on importing witness statements digitally.” Nealer stabbed a finger onto the top of the file and gave Geno an earnest look. “I know how you get with sloppy english handwriting so I’ll go over them and re-interview witnesses. You should go back to the station and talk to the deputies on duty at the times of the attacks, see what kind of vibes you get off of them solo.” 

“See what they have to say when feeling secure in numbers?” 

“Exactly.” 

—

_“Any news yet?” It was Flower’s voice at his ear, tinny through a phone speaker. He knew he was in Crosby’s body again, this time they were at least speaking English._

_“No, but it’s getting closer,” he found himself saying, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other held up in a friendly wave to the car stopping for him as he jogged across a street._

_“Shit.”_

_“Yeah, Tanger’s getting the entire Stitch ’n’ Bitch on it.” He huffed nonsensically. There were about a million smells in the air._

_“It’s serious.” Flower sounded grave, it caused his Crosby gut to churn with anxiety._

_“It always was, but it’s getting too close to town.” he paused meaningfully, “Agent Malkin went for a run by the preserve and it was there.” the words tumbled out quickly, a mess of vowels and consonants tripping over each other._

_“Sid. You’re turning into a cliché, you know that?” What did that mean? A cliché of a small town cop?_

_“I’m just trying to keep everyone safe.”_

_“Well, all I have to say to that is Beep-Beep.”_

_“Beep-Beep.”_

_“BEEP-BEEP.”_

Geno smacked his phone alarm and blearily blinked at his motel room. It was just starting to get light outside, still obscenely early then. He dropped his face back into his pillow and then rolled onto his back thinking about his dream. Was he going to dream exclusively in Crosby’s point of view from now on? Doing all his errands in his sleep? Geno was fairly certain even if he hadn’t gotten anywhere, he’d been intent on picking up drying cleaning.

He couldn’t make sense of the dreams, or why he was having them - maybe there was something in the water here? Nealer hadn’t mentioned having any weird dreams but then again he hadn’t brought it up either. He made a mental note to check with him about it and then rolled onto his side. It really was too early to be up and stewing about some cobbled together meaningless mind trash. 

He closed his eyes and curled his arm under his pillow. The image of Crosby’s face came to him as it had in the dream when he’d caught his own reflection in the plate glass of a shop window, lips parted, hair tousled by the wind. He really was attractive - 

Geno rolled onto his back again and smacked the fluffy duvet down around his body, snapping his eyes open grumpily. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep, and he knew it. It was going to be a couple hours at least before Nealer was awake, and they were parting ways in the investigation today anyway. 

He sat up, smoothed down his hair and blinked a few times. A run it was. 

He took the same route he had the other day, looping through the town as it woke up, waving back to Horny as he passed _Isabella’s_ in the midst of its opening routines. The air was cool and fresh, filled with the smell of the forest even in the middle of the town. 

He passed other joggers here and there, nodding to them in greeting, smiling down at their eager dogs. He passed the old house on the corner, slowing to find more details he’d missed last time, the way the greying and peeling paint showed that the house had actually been pink once, the shutters badly in need of repair, the front porch swing sitting on the floor, off its chains. 

“I’ve always liked that one.” A voice at his elbow made him jump, he’d forgone music today, too early to be loud, even just in his ears. When he looked over his shoulder he’d like to say he was surprised to see Sheriff Crosby shuffling up there, but he wasn’t really. It just seemed like a matter of time before they crossed paths again, and why not here? He was dreaming about picking up the man’s laundry, might as well meet him on a jog. 

They fell into step together, taking the left and heading out toward the woods.

“Pretty house.” Geno wasn’t about to elaborate but he could at least share an opinion.

“Most people wouldn’t say so.” Crosby easily kept up with his longer stride, his muscular legs explosive. Geno didn’t usually let himself fantasize about people he met on the job, but something about Crosby seemed to be the exception to most rules. Geno felt oddly thirsty to figure him out.

“Most people stupid.” Too early for filters. Luckily, Crosby just huffed in amusement and settled into their pace a little further. It didn’t look like they’d be separating any time soon and their exchanged breath was the only thing said between them for several lengths.

“You like run?” He finally asked, unable to let it be. Crosby wasn’t wearing any sort of specific running gear, just running shoes, basketball shorts, a grey ‘Forks Sheriff’s Department’ shirt.

“Huh?” Crosby sounded sleepy despite the brightness in his eyes, “No, I don’t like running.” 

“Why you run then?” 

“Oh I-” he paused like he didn’t actually know why he was running at that very moment, keeping step with Geno like a seasoned pro, “I don’t _like_ it, but it’s good for you- me. It’s good for me.” 

“You’re weird guy, Crosby.” 

“Yeah,” He let out another little huff that sounded mildly like a honk this time, “I’ve been told that before.” he was pensive for a few more strides before adding, “Call me Sid.” 

“Sid.” He held out a sweaty hand, holding it there while Sid took it awkwardly, jostling their palms together while they ran. He pumped it once, “Nice to meet, proper. Am Evgeni - Geno for tongue.” 

Sid threw his head back and actually laughed then, as suspected a honking raspy unattractive noise. Geno found himself helplessly charmed by it. 

“For my tongue huh?” Sid’s eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled mischievously, and speaking of his smile, it was actually a little crooked. His heart did a somersault in his chest. He was totally fucked. “Nice to meet you too, Geno.”

“Flower mad you warn us about prank,” he puffed, glancing at Sid’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Sid grinned back at him. 

“Yeah, well, most people get the warning and still fuck it up. He deserves to get his fun spoiled sometimes. He usually runs completely unchecked, especially in that greenhouse of his-” Sid cut off his own thought abruptly, “Sorry, I don’t usually babble like that.” His rounded North Eastern vowels were distracting, making him work a little harder to listen to his English and reminded Geno abruptly of why they were acquainted at all.

“It’s good. Many things on your mind. Lots to deal with.” 

Sid sighed expansively, “you don’t even know the half of it.” 

“Can tell me,” he offered but Sid just smiled up at him gently and shook his head once. 

“Nah, it’s personal stuff, nothing related to the case or anything.” They eased out of the wooded area, taking the highway path back into town. They would part ways soon so Geno could return to his motel and his shower. 

“I’m come see you today.” He blew a heavy breath out noisily, that hadn’t come out the way he wanted it to, “I’m mean, come to station. Talk to deputies find bodies.” They approached the motel, their feet beating a steady thrum on the asphalt, together. They were perfectly in sync, Geno thought non-sensically, that had to mean _something_. He was suddenly aware of his pulse beating madly in his throat.

“Sounds good. I look forward to it.” Sid said firmly and hesitated a second as Geno took his first step out of rhythm, sending him on a course to the motel and away from Sid. “You can come see me any time you like.” He added quietly. 

Geno turned his head at that, and upon catching Sid’s smile he turned the rest of his body as well finishing his run backward. They were too far apart at this point to say anything more, but if he wasn’t mistaken he could have sworn the sheriff was flirting with him.

—

His suit felt like armour sometimes, like protection from the day at large. A layer of professionalism that kept him at arms length from reality, that made him an arm of the law. Today was no different, tying his tie felt final, like the line drawn between whatever had happened between himself and Sid, and whatever was going to happen today at the station between Agent Malkin and Sheriff Crosby. There had to be boundaries. 

If not for the sake of the case than for himself. 

_You’re still scared, hm? What do they call it when you want commitment too much? That bleeding romantic heart leaping with hope at every turn?_

Geno grit his teeth against the voice in the back of his head. He slung his sunglasses onto his face and vowed to ignore it. He popped his head through the door dividing the rooms to let Nealer know he was leaving. 

“Let me know if you get anything from the station today. I’ll text you updates on the witness statements.” Nealer was still in his pyjamas, but working through a stack of papers, all appearing to be written by hand. Geno didn’t envy him in the slightest. 

He found his way to the station by walking, knowing Nealer would need their car to visit witnesses, but the morning was still cool and the walk was refreshing, a good break to gather his thoughts and refocus on the case at hand. There were several deputies to interview but one Chief Deputy Letang had been on scene for all of the calls related to the mysterious gruesome deaths in their county. Geno was going to go over case notes with all the deputies, but Letang’s interview was going to be its own special interest piece. 

The Sheriff’s station was exactly the same colour of oatmeal it had been last time. There was something strange about these police stations in small towns, they seemed to have all been built in the 70s and then never really updated. Sure the linoleum had been re-done in the 90s, a speckled cream and brown pattern, and it had been freshly painted, but there was still wood paneling, and heavy, scuffed, rounded wooden desks that looked like they were original to the building. Even the ferns in the corners looked like they’d been around for decades. 

He submitted his badge while being signed in at reception and then took it back as he surveyed the bullpen for the desks he needed to be concerned with. 

Sitting at the one that held the name plate K. Letang was the handsome man from the first dream he’d had. The one who had talked to Flower with such ease and familiarity. Now he was speaking to someone on the phone, looking more and more aggravated by the second. 

“Kris can be a bit of a hot head, but don’t hold it against him, he’s a great Deputy.” Crosby had a way of materializing at Geno’s shoulder without a sound. He was dressed in his khaki uniform, star shaped badge shining over his heart. 

“Not hold anything. Only look for names from files.” Geno followed the sheriff through the bullpen to one of the empty desks that looked like it’d been pulled out and dusted off just for him. 

“If you need anything just let me know, we’re here to work together.” Crosby turned abruptly and they found themselves uncomfortably close together, Crosby craning his head back to look Geno in the eye. He drew a shaky sounding breath in and then pressed his lips together, like he wanted to say more, but was denying himself the opportunity.

“Sure everything fine.” Geno eased himself around the sheriff, grabbing for the chair they’d provided him and sliding it backwards soundlessly. 

“Right, I’ll let you get…to it.” Crosby hurried to his office without another look back and Geno turned to his work. It was time to properly get into things. 

The interviews he did that morning were standard, the deputies he talked to were all fairly professional, maybe nervous at being quizzed on their work by someone who held a higher station. It was a little silly, Geno had absolutely no ability to _do_ anything to them with regards to their work, no authority to fire them or promote them or anything. He _did_ have the ability to arrest them if he found them guilty of something, but clearly none of them had anything to do with any of this mess, they were all just as perplexed, disturbed, and frightened by the attacks as anyone would be who lived and worked in a small town. 

Even so, he’d enjoyed fucking with them just a little bit. So sue him, his accent had to have benefits somewhere amongst all the misunderstandings - and that was 100% his ability to sound menacing without even trying. He mostly blamed the perpetual stereotyping of Russian thug villains and tracksuit wearing gangbangers in American television for creating the fear at the mere implication that someone had an eastern European background - well, that and lingering cold war soviet propaganda’s influence. 

The chair beside his desk was turned backwards and Kris Letang plopped into it, arms braced on the back, face a mask of scrutiny. 

“I’m feeling left out, Agent.” He had a french Canadian accent as well - Geno’s dream was holding up as prophetic apparently. 

“Was going to break for lunch, but if you want talk now, we do.” He grabbed his notes on Letang’s work, mostly just for show, but the Deputy was just looking even more determined, it suited his face even more, his hair swooping just so, back from his forehead. He had great hair, Geno narrowed his eyes and fought the easy jealousy that rose up. Something about Letang made him feel competitive, like he wanted to prove he was smarter, bigger, better. He hated it. 

“Let’s do it.” Letang said, cocky and sure, settling into his awkward choice of seating further as Geno eyed the way he straddled the chair. It would get uncomfortable quickly, but that was his dumb choice to make. 

The interview went on as they usually did, frustratingly, but Letang was getting impatient, like he had better things to do than talk to Geno, and fair enough, if Geno was in his position he’d want to get this over with and back to his actual work as well. 

“The whole thing stank.” He said carelessly about the third crime scene “It wasn’t normal, not for a regular murder or an animal attack.” Letang said firmly, and then seemed to realize what he’d said and went pale all at once, his eyes wide on Geno’s. Darting to where Geno was finishing taking notes on what he’d said. 

“If wasn’t regular attack and wasn’t regular murder, what was it, in your word? Why stink?” Geno put his pen down entirely, intent on showing Letang he wasn’t missing a word he was saying. 

“I-” Letang swallowed, “I mean that it literally stank. Worse than usual crime scenes with bodies that fresh.” Geno flipped back through his notes. 

“Smell was not said in case notes. Not in anyone else comments. Not in Fleury’s report.” Geno felt like he was close to something, they’d finally let something slip. He didn’t know what, but he could see Letang starting to panic. He looked over Geno’s shoulder and Geno turned, seeing Crosby had come out of his office and was leaning against his door jam watching them, arms crossed over his chest. He was too far to hear what was being discussed, but being watched wasn’t ideal.

“Papa!” a small dark haired boy barrelled through the bullpen, launching himself at Letang, who had somehow already twisted himself around in the chair so he could catch him. Geno blinked, he’d never seen someone move that fast before. 

“Alex!” Letang exclaimed in equal surprise and delight, and then directed a puzzled stream of French at the boy.

The boy was mumbling some reply to his father, peeping large blue eyes over his shoulder to peer at Geno warily. His gaze wandered however, and brightened when he caught sight of something or perhaps _someone_ behind Geno. 

“Alpha!” He was off like a shot out of his father’s embrace and racing through the maze of desks to Crosby’s feet. Geno didn’t know what Alex had called Sid, but maybe it was some kind of family nick name, or maybe it was french for Uncle? Once he’d reached his destination he was scooped up into his arms and set upon the sheriff’s hip. Sid beamed back at him in equal adoration. He clearly loved this boy as dearly as his own. Geno’s heart tripped in his chest. 

“Hmm. Sid loves children.” Letang hummed from where Geno had completely forgotten he was still sitting. He glanced back at him, but found himself turning to look back at where Sid was throwing his head back with laughter at something Alex had said and then burying his smiling face into Alex’s hair. 

“You should see him with his-” Geno’s face must have done something, gone slack with shock, or maybe telecasted some kind of devastation through a twitch of the eyebrows at the idea that Sid had an entire family, children of his own, a wife or partner already. Letang let out a bark of laughter mid sentence. 

“With his _cousins._ ” He finished, “his family is quite large and there are lots of little cousins that like to hang off of him. His kid sister only just stopped begging for piggy back rides.” Letang looked too amused for words at this point. 

Geno cleared his throat, trying to recollect some semblance of professionalism. It was probably hopeless though, Letang had already connected the dots and was offering information for shits and giggles. Geno figured he might as well be all in then. 

“Sister live here?”

“Ah - no. She visits often. Sid’s… family mostly lives in the Halifax area. He wanted to get into law enforcement and make a difference somewhere and Forks needed a stable dependable sheriff.” 

“Never met so many Canadians.” Geno grumbled but had no heart behind it. If anything the Canadians here had been warm and welcoming and far more polite than strictly necessary. 

“We’re one hour from the border to Québec and surrounded on three sides, there are more Canadians here than you’d think.” 

It was then they were interrupted by a beautiful blonde woman who could only be Letang’s wife and mother of Alex, looking to take the Deputy to a family lunch. Sid wandered over hand in hand with Alex, looking cheerful and greeting Letang’s wife happily. 

They all chatted for a moment, French washing over Geno easily. He felt for a moment like he was a teenager again, freshly transplanted to North America and unable to understand anything. It didn’t bother him any more, and he only looked up when he felt the prickle of them all turning to look at him at once. 

“Am I free to attend lunch? Or do you have more questions?” Letang was polite now, something in his demeanour changed surrounded by his family and maybe a little bit because he had seen something vulnerable in Geno himself. 

“Yes. Free to go. No more questions.” Geno still technically had questions, but he doubted they’d be answered with any kind of clarity this afternoon, or tomorrow, or at any point in time. The case wasn’t adding up, and wasn’t getting anywhere. He just hoped Nealer had had some luck with his witnesses. 

As the family exited he noticed Sid lingered, looking absently at the place they’d vanished around the corner. 

“Not going for lunch?” Geno was reshuffling his papers back into order. 

“No.” Sid shook his head and turned to face him entirely as Geno stood with his things. “No, I have some more things I need to get done.” He looked at the files in Geno’s hands. “Are you-?” He gestured to the door as if to imply going for lunch the same way Letang had sauntered off.

“Have to check in with Nealer. Done here for today.” He pushed his chair back under the desk and did a final sweep to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, tapping his pocket to make sure he had his phone. 

“Find out anything interesting?” Crosby crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at Geno, eyes almost glowing with fierce interest. He was back to being the sheriff completely.

“Know can’t discuss case details.” He took a step towards Crosby, mimicking the way they’d found themselves earlier, Crosby’s head tipped back on his exposed neck, eye contact unwavering. 

“I suppose I’ll just see you around then.” Crosby let a touch of a smirk cross his face as he backed away this time, heading back to his own office. 

“It's small town.” Geno added dumbly.

“Very.” 

—

Nealer had a lot of nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. A few of the witnesses said they thought they’d seen a figure, a person maybe moving through the woods away from the bodies when they’d been found. But the person was massive, and moved too erratically to be truly human. They all weren’t sure and were completely on board with the black bear theory, even going as far as to show Nealer youtube clips of black bears walking around on their hind legs. 

They reported back to HQ over a video conference in Geno’s motel room, updating them on the case and getting a firm chastisement to get moving, revisit every crime scene, question everyone again, leave no stone unturned if they truly thought there was something more to it than just a rogue bear. But in the case that they turned up nothing again? They were to close the case and immediately return to DC. 

Nothing was adding up and it was driving Geno absolutely mad. He could feel in his gut that he was missing something, something just on the edge of his vision maybe. He was starting to get paranoid. That vibe the town was giving off was starting to really press in on him. 

Whenever he was anywhere outside of his motel room alone he felt eyes on him, watching his every move. Nealer reported nothing like that, only a blissfully ignorant existence. 

On top of feeling watched, he kept seeing that black dog. At first he thought it was separate dogs, some larger and some smaller, but as time wore on and he kept snatching looks at the animal disappearing behind corners and trotting across streets he knew it was the same one. 

The locals all pretended not to know what he was talking about when he mentioned their stray. He asked Horny if maybe the dog belonged to someone who let it roam freely through the town. It wasn’t like there was a lot of high speed traffic, with a smart enough dog it was probably fine. Horny however just shrugged and said he hadn’t seen any dogs off leash. The way he said it without a smile or a joke however made Geno even more suspicious. 

“Listen, I’m not seeing strange dogs everywhere I go, and I’m not feeling like someone is breathing down my neck at every turn. Maybe this case is too much, maybe we should get you re-assigned to something closer to home.” Nealer suggested to him over Chicken Lo Mein one night and he fought not to throw the carton he was scooping out of across the room. 

“I’m not crazy!” He hissed back and Nealer nodded at him, face twisted into a stupid sympathetic furrow and then he dropped the topic suspiciously quickly. Now he needed to be worried about his own partner reporting him to their superiors for being under stress or something. Being unfit for the field. 

_Are you ever going to admit I was right about everything? You aren’t enough Zhenya. You’ll never be enough._

He went to bed in a dark mood and woke up in an even darker one having had _another_ ridiculous Crosby dream. This time it hadn’t even been imaginative or informative, just Crosby doing a set of shirtless stretches, yoga in front of a mirrored wall. He had watched as a passenger with no control as Crosby moved and flowed with his breathing, legs straining in the leggings he was wearing. 

His ass was insane, his torso was insane, the pattern of the flush that stretched down practically to his navel, the way his lips were redder and plumper than ever, the tantalizing glimpse he caught of a tattoo lurking on one shoulder blade. 

Geno woke suddenly before his alarm, breathing as hard but steady as Crosby in his dream had been, uncomfortably hard in his shorts. He groaned and rolled his hips down into the bed, stretching at the pleasure of it, but needing more. 

He worked a hand down to cup himself and sighed luxuriantly to touch himself and think of Crosby’s strong body working to balance itself. He was just working into a really _really_ nice rhythm when his brain woke up a little more and he realized what it was he was actually doing. Crosby was supposed to be a professional contact, and until the case was closed that’s all he _could_ be. Indulging pornographic dreams was only going to make his crush _worse_. 

He dragged himself out of bed and threw himself into a cold rinse in the shower before pulling on his running clothing over his still wet body and setting out. He was a good fifteen minutes earlier than he usually was, he doubted he’d see Crosby on his run, which was something of a relief after that dream. He wasn’t ready to see his sweaty face again with the new context his mind had cooked up for him to have tattooed on the inside of his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

He tucked his giant head into an FBI ball cap, made sure he had his room key, and left. This early the sun was still struggling to rise, _Isabella’s_ was dark except for the glow of the kitchens in the back and only the earliest of risers were out and about starting their days. 

“Early today.” Geno wished he could say he was actually that surprised when Crosby materialized at his elbow, but by now he was kind of used to the other man’s silent approach. He was always there, just when you thought you could give up on seeing him for a while. He was right on time too, joining Geno just as he was approaching the rundown old house on the corner.

“Bad dream.” He said and regretted it immediately, smacked with the images of Crosby doing downward dog while in the presence of the man himself, and while in the middle of a run. If his dick didn’t hate him for its treatment earlier, it certainly did now.

“I think I know what you mean.” Crosby sighed, lost in his own thoughts of his apparent dreams as well. They ran in silence for a little while, it was nice just having someone to be quiet with. He was feeling more settled than he had in days.

“Are you alright though? You seem…tense.” 

“Tired. Frustrate. Case is slow, dumb, not make sense.” he shouldn’t be talking about this with Sid, but he didn’t have anyone to confide in other than Nealer. He turned that idea over in his mind, it was true in more senses than one. 

“Ah-For Sure. Sometimes cases…sometimes they fight you back.” He added finally, changing his step slightly so he jostled into Geno, causing him to stumble a step. Sid honked a laugh and launched himself into a quicker pace, challenging Geno to chase him in retribution for the minor slight. Geno found himself doing just that, pushing himself to keep up, fighting the laughter that wanted to burst out of his chest as he ditched his pace and just ran like a child playing tag, working to lay a hand on Sid. 

It was a distraction maybe, but it worked, and Geno didn’t think about his frustration or anything but the pure drive to catch Crosby until he did - probably by design - in the motel parking lot. He got him around the waist, bending his legs and lifting the man with his momentum into the air, before returning him sharply to the ground. 

Sid let out a shocked peal of laughter. 

“I think I outweigh you, you could have hurt yourself.” He panted after he was set down and turned back to Geno, hands on his hips, gulping in air and looking radiant. 

“Not as skinny as I’m look.” Geno shrugged. The reality of their circumstances was starting to blanket in on them, Geno feeling silly suddenly, like his schoolyard crush couldn’t be any more obvious. Sid cocked his head at him and looked him up and down while they caught their breaths. 

“Stop thinking so much.” He clapped Geno on the shoulder as he passed by, picking up a pace to finish his own run with, “Come by the station later, we can go over what you have again.” 

“For hundred time!” Geno called bitterly, but Crosby just grinned over his shoulder. 

“Hundredth time’s the charm?” 

Geno flapped a hand in his direction and stomped off to his room, climbing the stairs with tired thighs. When he got to his door the door beside his swung open, Nealer appearing sleep rumpled but awake, arms crossed in his door way. 

“What you want?” Geno sighed at him, he knew the look that Nealer had on his face, and it was always bad news. 

“I saw you in the parking lot.” He said seriously, “Are you getting a little too fond of the locals in this one? What happened to being suspicious?” 

Geno let his head thunk against his door, pressing his eyes closed tiredly. “I’m know. Like Crosby though. He’s good guy.” 

“He could be covering up a string of murders.” 

“Could be trying to convince two stupid FBI agent to leave bear attacks alone in woods.” Geno snapped, opening his eyes and looking at Nealer again. 

“Look, personally, I think it’s great, you-” he looked at Geno pleadingly, “We’re friends and you deserve some happiness, and if Crosby makes you happy then…that’s good. But for the sake of this case it needs to get put on the back burner until we’ve got our marching orders.” 

“Then never see again.” Geno said grouchily, but knew Nealer was right. 

“Maybe? But we live in the age of technology and it’s not that far to come for a visit?” Nealer offered stupidly, like he hadn’t complained for an entire month when he was dating a girl who lived in _Baltimore._

“ _Twelve hour_ drive, Lazy.” 

“Whatever man. It might be worth it. He’s _supernaturally_ hot - I think.” 

Geno let his head fall noisily to the door again with an even louder groan. 

—

Despite Nealer’s best warning Geno couldn’t keep himself from going to Crosby that day to see what the other man had. If he could shed even just a glimmer more light on the case it was worth the look that Nealer levelled him with as he informed him of his plan for the day. 

“Will be good, Papa.” He crossed his finger over his heart for show and set off on foot for the station once more. 

Crosby was talking to Flower in the reception area of the station when he arrived, so he got waved back into the bullpen and Crosby’s office, the door left open and inviting. When he ducked inside he was pleasantly assaulted with the mild smell of whatever soap it was Crosby used. Everything in the office was clean, matching, put in its place. Crosby was clearly a meticulous worker, probably a meticulous person in general. Geno opted out of sitting before the desk to study the maps of the area that were tacked up along one wall. There was the Forks town site map, a map of Maine, a few outlining various properties, one that looked like a schematic for a power grid maybe, and then there was one he didn’t understand. 

It showed Maine and Forks and lines that were intersecting just outside the town in the woods. They were broad and sweeping, seemingly placed at random other than this one intersection. 

“They’re telluric currents.” Crosby was standing just behind him, “Currents of low frequency electric charge that wrap the Earth. They’re not fully understood in terms of what they’re capable of doing, but there’s been reports of them acting kind of like the tides, people get a little loopy when they live close to one or two of them.” 

“This map have six.” Geno tapped the intersection point and swept his eyes over the tails of several of them crossing through the town in different areas. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Forks has a …a reputation.” Crosby perched on the corner of his desk and looked up at Geno wryly. 

“Weird vibe.” He agreed with a bob of his head, and then turned to look at the map again, “Have you looked at map and attacks? Maybe line up?” 

“It’s not-”

“Sid.” Letang threw open Crosby’s office door without knocking but only let his head and shoulders cross the threshold. He looked serious and grim, “there’s been another body found.” 

In a moment Crosby was on his feet and Geno was following. He was already pulling out his phone to text Nealer about the development in the case. 

“Where? The preserve?” He grabbed his uniform jacket off the coatrack standing beside the door and the three of them were moving together for the exit. It seemed like the whole bullpen was awash with newfound activity, phones were ringing, quick conversations were happening in hushed tones and others too loudly. 

“Non.” Letang’s eyes slid back to where Geno was following them, “It was found in a house, near the northwest border of town.” 

Crosby cursed and Geno felt an anxious clenching in his gut that always signalled a break in the case, even if that meant everything was about to go to hell in a hand basket. 

He said nothing, but jotted down where they were headed and fired off an updated text to Nealer requesting him to meet them there. He rode along with Crosby, no sirens, the deed was already done, but he flashed his lights when necessary to get pokey civilians out of the way. 

When they pulled up onto the lawn of a row house, already littered with police equipment and bodies doing their jobs to secure the scene, Crosby turned off the engine and sat quietly for a moment. 

“Not black bear.” Geno didn’t want to beat around the bush, nor did he want to taunt the sheriff about his clearly wrong conclusion - bears couldn’t open doors and slash people apart in their own homes. 

“No.” Sid said quietly, face grim under the still flashing red lights of the ambulance parked beside them, “apparently not.” 

They entered the house and were directed where to go by deputies on the scene, down the hall and to the left. The attack had happened in a bedroom, in the victim’s _bed_. Geno could only stomach so much of the scene before having to leave the room and stand outside in the hall, breathing shallow breaths through his mouth. 

“I’m here.” Nealer sounded a little out of breath, but when Geno opened his eyes he was straightening his suit jacket and pulling on the familiar mask of indifference he often used at scenes like this, “I got this.” 

He disappeared into the room, where tell tale flashes indicated the scene was being thoroughly documented. Geno leaned back against the wall again, trying not to dwell on the images in his mind, but focus on the idea that this was now a _someone_ to catch. 

“Are you okay?” It was Sid standing in front of him when he opened his eyes this time. 

“Fine. I’m not like crime scenes like this. Nealer better with…mess.” He wasn’t great with bodies in general, but when they were all ….together he could usually give it a brief uncomfortable sweep over and focus on the other things at the scene - or just look at one part of the body at a time. In that room however, the whole scene _was_ the body. 

“Yeah.” Sid pursed his lips and glanced back at the open doorway to the scene where Nealer and Letang were quietly discussing something, “This one’s bad. They’re all bad, but-” 

“Nature is different. This more personal.” Geno summed up. 

“Yeah.” Sid looked up at him, eyes flashing brightly for a moment in the dim light. “I knew her. She wasn’t a tourist or someone new around here. Her name was Muriel Townsend. She was 85.” 

Geno bobbed his head in a nod, the house they’d moved through had been a hallmark of typical octogenarian decorating and odds and ends. It certainly didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought that that body had once been a _person_. Someone that other people had known and loved. It did firm his resolve to get to the bottom of this. The sick monster responsible for her death needed to be locked away. He repeated that thought to Sid, who eased himself into leaning on the wall next to Geno. Sid sketched a laugh, an anemic hollow thing that sent chills up Geno’s spine. 

“Monster is the best word for it alright.” 

“Regular person don’t do for no reason. Monster.” There was definitely no connection between all the victims, Geno _knew_. They’d been over and over this case until he was sick of it, that was why the bear theory had been starting to look so good.

This wasn’t the first time he’d wished his gut had been wrong about a case. 

“Let’s find out who was the last person to see her alive and try to narrow down a time frame for this one.” Sid turned, already shifting back into Crosby mode, “Flower should be here by now with his equipment. The sooner he can get to work the sooner we can have a few more answers.”

Geno followed him down the hall and back into the daylight, passing by a somber looking Flower pulling a gurney stacked up with a case of equipment behind him. As they passed through the house again Geno noticed this time the signs of distress, not a lot, but enough. A knocked over chair here, picture frames askew in the hallway there. There were some blood smears on the walls, and on the sideboard, like the killer had been unsteady on their feet - maybe Muriel had had some fight in her last moments and injured her attacker. 

There was also mud, _all_ over the carpet, like whoever had attacked her had come straight from trekking through a knee high bog, or living entirely outdoors. He made a few notes in his notebook about the scene, his first observations, feelings and the way the air smelled, all the things that the photos couldn’t capture to look back on later. 

The rest of the day seemed to ooze by while simultaneously speeding faster than it had any right to. He bounced between documenting the crime scene and conversing with Nealer all morning, and then they both spent all afternoon working with the Deputies in the station tracking down next of kin, and mapping out Muriel’s last hours of life. 

By the time they were finished as much as they could for the day evening was upon them and Geno was dead on his feet. He felt grubby in his suit, crumpled from a day spent sweating in it from spikes of anxiety and anger. He realized, with a lurching growl of his stomach, that he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Hey Lazy,” He elbowed Nealer as they walked towards their car, unlocking it with a _beep-boop,_ “You want food? I’m pay.” 

“No thanks G, I’m not really hungry. I think I just want to head back to the motel and crash until tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” he nodded, “We go back first.” 

He fought off his hunger pangs long enough to take a quick shower, rinsing off the stink of the day, and changing into something a bit more casual before heading back out into what was outright night in search of sustenance. He walked, feeling like he needed the time to clear his head and feeling guilty about the fact everything in the town was fairly close together and justifying a car was a little absurd sometimes. 

He decided a sub sandwich was probably going to do it for the night, and went about rocking back on his heels in the fluorescent light of the shop and speaking as clearly as possible to the attendant behind the sneeze shield about what toppings he wanted on his dinner. 

As he stood in the bright cubicle sized space waiting for his meal, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the the dark maw that was the large windows behind him. He could see nothing on the other side but his own reflection blinking owlishly back at him. 

He felt like he was being watched. Again. He was really starting to hate this town.

Outside he ripped into his sandwich immediately, moaning a little at the pure indulgence of eating a too big mouthful on an empty stomach. As he chewed he felt the prickle of the hairs on the back of his neck standing, someone was definitely following him. 

He restrained the instinct to look over his shoulder, and instead wandered closer to the cars lining the side of the streets, glancing in their side mirrors until he caught a glimpse of his stalker. He knew exactly what to do when he caught sight of their reflection, and made a turn down between two buildings to wait. 

He picked at his sandwich as he waited, sliding a green pepper free and popping it into his mouth. He unbuckled his belt as quietly as he could and slid it out of his belt loops, holding the clanking metal silent in his palm. Sure enough a beat or two later and the black dog was slinking around the corner after him. 

«Following me, hm?» He murmured in a low soothing tone, as the dog froze, caught. This close for the first time he got a really good look at it. Dark choppy fur led to pointed, high ears, a longish snout and clear orange-brown eyes that peered up at him anxiously. Geno dropped slowly into a crouch, offering out a bit of sandwich meat he’d picked from his meal to the animal. 

It eyed him warily, and then slowly edged closer, nose working at taking in the smell of the meat being offered to it. 

«Come on, I’m not going to hurt you.» Geno sweet talked, gently tossing the meat closer to the dog, and then taking out another bit when the dog gobbled that morsel immediately. This time when he held out the bigger chunk of food, the dog came closer, eating from his hand, wary eyes never straying from his, barely blinking. 

Geno spent the next half hour crouched like that, trading off on feeding himself and feeding the dog, talking to it sweetly in Russian. Clearly the animal just needed loving. Maybe it’d sensed something in him, and that’s why it’d been following him through town since he’d arrived. 

He worked to slowly be able to touch the animal, petting -what was now clearly a him- liberally. 

«Look at you.» Geno smiled at the dog as he smiled back, tongue lolling out, «All you really want is to be loved, isn’t that right?» He scratched his fingers through the dog’s chest and it leaned against him heavily. 

«Yes, you’re a very handsome boy.» Geno laughed softly and continued petting him with one hand. The other retrieved his belt where he’d set it down. Working quickly he managed to get the belt around the dog’s neck, not notched, but something to get him _somewhere_. He was far too big to pick up alone. 

He wasn’t even sure if Forks had an animal shelter, but he vowed that he’d figure out what to do with the dog, even if that meant paying to kennel him for however long it took to finish the case and then take him home himself.

For the time being, he took the dog (who was surprisingly calm about the belt situation, maybe he’d been a pet before) back to the motel with him, quickly sneaking him into his room, knowing fully well the no animals in the rooms policy. 

Once inside, he took the belt from the dog’s neck and let him explore the room freely, watching amused as he raced toward whatever smelled interesting, which apparently was his dirty laundry piled on the arm chair in the corner. His tail was wagging quickly, as he made another lap of the room, looking up at their case board for a moment and then at the bed, making the sound decision to jump up onto it and flop down in the middle. 

Geno laughed at the dog’s antics, pulling off his clothes to change into his pyjamas. The dog set his head on his paws and watched him, but it was no longer skin crawling, but just the familiar looks that animals tend to give humans, the kind that wondered what they were doing, and why. 

«I’ll share, but you need to move over a little.» Geno tugged the blankets on the side of the bed he was closest to and the dog miraculously moved over enough for Geno to inch into the bed as well. He shut off the lights, and then reached out for the dog in the twilight of the room provided by the constant outdoor lights of the motel. 

He pet the dog for a long long time, murmuring to him in Russian, kissing his sleepy doggy forehead and enjoying maybe too much the intimate company of someone he could trust completely. It had been a long time since he’d been able to share a conversation on a pillow with anyone else. 

Eventually however, the dog’s even breathing and the weight and warmth of it in the bed beside him lulled him to sleep and for once, he didn’t dream.

—

_“Beep-Beep.”_

Geno slapped his alarm off, taking a great gulping breath of air as he woke and slumped back into his pillow. He didn’t want to be awake, he’d been having the most luxurious deep sleep of his _life_ and now he had to wake up and-

He sat up abruptly in the bed, remembering the dog that probably needed to go out, and he hadn’t even thought about what to feed it this morning. He needed to check what time the animal clinic opened and see if perhaps he could beg a favour off of Flower and his Veterinarian friends to stash his new friend there for the day, safe and sound. 

The dog wasn’t on the bed, or anywhere he could spot immediately. Geno frowned and threw the covers off his legs, swinging himself out of bed and padding into the small hallway created by the washroom and kitchenette. The dog wasn’t there either. He flicked the lights on in the washroom, and then did a circle of the room again, looking behind the curtains and under the bed. 

The dog was gone. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, and gave his arm a pinch. He was definitely awake, and unless he dreamed the entire ordeal last night, he’d definitely had that dog in his bed last night…but somehow it was missing this morning? 

He went over possibilities of what happened:

Nealer came into his room for some reason last night without waking him and either let the dog out or accidentally trapped it in his room  
He left the door unlatched somehow and the dog managed to nose its way back outside on its own in the night.  
Motel staff saw him sneaking the dog into his room and opened his door, confiscating the dog…once again without waking him.

He checked the Nealer situation first, cracking the door between their rooms open and sighing in disappointment when there was no happy snout poking its way back at him. Dogs couldn’t just open doors on their own, and the motel room door was too heavy to keep cracked without something holding it open, so the dog didn’t just let itself out. And there was no way the motel staff would do anything to do with his room without notifying him, especially while he was _in_ the room. So that left the sad reality of what actually happened: 

He’d totally dreamed the entire thing after an intense, emotionally draining day. 

He had to admit that probably made sense, the dog was too trusting, too willing to go with him to be an ordinary stray. The intelligence in its eyes was too keen. He’d needed a confidante, and his mind had made one up for him. Great, maybe he _was_ going crazy in this town. 

He decided the best way to get over the disappointment and off-kilter feeling he had to start the day off was to just treat everything like normal. He changed into his running gear and headed out, comforting himself with the idea that maybe the dog wasn’t real, but at least he’d get to talk to Sid that morning, see him in his usual glory, strong and quick and competent. 

Geno tried not to let his eyes wander too far as he ran through the town, pointedly not looking out for any shadows in the corners, or tails disappearing around corners. It didn’t matter though, he didn’t feel watched at all that morning, instead it was sunny and beautiful with fluffy clouds on the horizon and everyone was in a fairly good mood for having just played host to a grisly murder the day before. 

He got to the beautiful old house on the corner, saying a silent good morning to it, and took the left, expecting Sid to appear out of thin air as he seemingly always did at any moment. However by the time he was finished the block, Sid was nowhere in sight, and Geno proceeded into the wooded portion of the run on his own. 

Sid didn’t show up for the entire run. If he was feeling off kilter before, he was definitely spinning sideways now. He’d never missed a run before…but last night had been a late one for everyone, and yesterday an incredibly taxing day - as was evidenced by the fact he dreamed for several hours in hyperrealism without even knowing it. So maybe it wasn’t any reason to be alarmed, maybe it was no big deal. 

When he entered the station that morning solo as Nealer had still been getting ready when he was itching to leave, it was to find all the Deputys' eyes on him immediately. 

“What?” He asked frowning and wiping at his face. He didn’t _think_ he had gotten any of his breakfast on him. 

“We’re waiting for Sid.” 

“He not here?” that seemed out of character, he got the impression Crosby was always one of the first ones in the office. 

“No, he’s late.” Letang said looking puzzled but not really worried, “His neighbour said he showed up early this morning in yesterday’s clothes.” 

“Oh.” Geno felt Letang’s words like a solid punch to the gut. Apparently the universe had decided it’d had enough of him some time last night and started this day with a vice around his heart that only got tighter and tighter as the day wore on. 

_I told you so…_

The voice in the back of his head sing-songed, and he didn’t even have the energy to muster up any anger at it. Crosby was allowed to spend the night not in his own bed. He was an adult, and this town had several bars. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a place where he could pick up, and with his looks it’d be like fishing with dynamite. 

It was only Geno’s own foolishness that was making him sad at the moment. He’d let himself hope, have feelings, indulge the feelings, flirt and assume it meant anything. Who knew if Crosby even was interested in men at all, or just liked to flirt. He felt cowed, and stupid. Unprofessionalism, thy name is Evgeni. 

It was at that unfortunate point in time that Sid and Nealer stumbled into the station together, exchanging pleasant words and facing all of their identical stares just as Geno had. 

“Listen, I know. I don’t want to hear it.” Crosby said, an authoritative tone settling in his voice and gaze that brooked no arguments. He wasn’t about to discuss his personal life in front of the entire station apparently. Letang didn’t look impressed, or like he was going to follow that order at all, and the first second they had alone he’d be grilling Sid about exactly his whereabouts last night.

Geno just ducked his head and avoided Crosby’s gaze when it came to land on him. He didn’t want to see whatever was there, apology or maybe worse, indifference. 

“Hey boss?” one of the junior deputies piped up, his curly blonde hair making him look no older than twelve years old. 

“This had better pertain to the cases we are working on and not anything to do with my personal life, Guentzel.” Geno heard Sid sigh and the deputy scrambled to stand. 

“N-no, I just wanted to give you this package, it arrived for you after you left last night.” He held out a relatively small unmarked cardboard box that Crosby took cautiously. 

“Good, we’ve been waiting for this. Letang.” He called for his chief deputy to follow him and then closed the door after him when they were both safely inside away from prying ears. 

“Why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?” Nealer looked at him perplexed, blowing into his freshly poured cup of coffee in a FSD crest mug. Geno looked down at his hands and shook his head against the lump in the back of his throat. 

“Tired.” he grunted. 

“Well have some god damned coffee and perk the fuck up. We’ve got a lot to do today and we’re close, I can practically feel it.” Nealer was chipper and determined, and Geno mustered half a smile for him, at least _he_ hadn’t had the universe turn its back on him. 

The morning was a long slog, constantly fighting his own anxiety, as it churned in his gut and making him feel wretched. It didn’t help that Letang and Crosby didn’t resurface from the back office until noon and then it was only to find food and then they re-shut themselves back into whatever pow wow they were having. 

Geno couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid he was, absolutely losing his focus like this, over a _crush_ and _infatuation_. He was frustrated and beginning to get pissed off and kept losing his place in his work because of it. He vowed however, not to leave until Crosby and Letang were finished with whatever they were doing, he couldn’t seem weak, or affected by this. He had to be Fine, and Fine Geno wouldn’t stop until whoever had committed these heinous crimes was put to justice. 

He re-doubled his focus until Nealer was standing with a crack of his back. 

“You keep going, it’s only eight. I just need to go stretch my legs.” He wandered out of the station, unhindered by reception that had long gone home. He didn’t know how much longer it was that he worked there, but he was next disturbed by Crosby and Letang finally leaving the office, checking their holsters for their guns and looking determined. 

They pulled up short at the sight of him still propped up at his desk. 

“What are you still doing here.” Crosby demanded brusquely. Geno frowned at him and lifted a file like that explained everything. 

“Working. What you do in office all day?” He tried not to sound accusatory but he’d spent the entire day working himself into a bitter stew, sue him. 

“Did Neal go home?” Letang looked at the second coffee cup at the desk, eyes darting out the windows and back to Geno’s face. 

“Went for walk, needed to stretch legs.” 

“Shit.” Letang cursed, giving Crosby a panicked look. 

“How long ago did he leave? Do you know where he was going?” 

“No? Maybe twenty minutes-” He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall and grimaced, “Hour. Nealer like nature, find trail probably.”

“ _Shit_ , we have to leave, _now._ ” Letang cursed again, already opening the door to outside, letting a gust of cool wind ruffle all their papers and wash over them, “You smell that?” he called to Crosby who was already jogging after him. 

“We don’t have long.” 

“What’s happening, where-” Geno jumped to his feet as well, trailing after them immediately, only to get stopped at the door by Crosby turning and bracing him back with one palm to his chest. 

“You need to stay here.” He said with wide bright eyes. He was just Sid then, scared for whatever was about to happen and trying to protect him. 

“Can’t.” He said firmly, “Take me with you, I’m help.” he saw Sid starting to formulate a reply and cut him off, “If you don’t take, I find on own.” He crossed his arms over his chest, maybe a touch dramatic and petulant, but it seemed to do the trick and Sid relented, taking a step back. 

“Okay, keep up, get your gun out, and don’t hesitate to shoot anything that comes at you.” Sid looked dead serious despite such a ridiculous request from him. 

“What-” 

“We’ll explain everything later, you’re just going to have to trust me for right now.” and then he was jogging off after Letang in the darkness. Geno followed at a lope, cursing his dress shoes for what he was about to do, including going running through the woods apparently, as Sid had just vanished into the trees. 

Geno cursed again, as the skies took that opportunity to open, a burst of lightning lighting up the forest before a clap of thunder rocked the ground around him and then the downpour began. Apparently while he’d been indoors all day those fluffy clouds on the horizon had turned into a brewing storm. He hoped that Nealer wasn’t out in this, but by the way Crosby and Letang had reacted they certainly thought he was in some measure of danger. 

He continued to run after the sounds of bodies moving through the forest that he heard, pulling his gun out but keeping the safety on for now, squinting through the dark and the drip dripping rain on trees. 

From the left there was suddenly a woman’s scream, screechy and distressed, he turned towards it instinctively and heard men’s shouting, then screaming and suddenly what could only be described as a roar. 

He didn’t know what the hell was happening in these woods, but he knew he needed to find Nealer and get the fuck out of there. He was slipping and sliding everywhere as the earth turned to mud, and the sounds of a fight began to filter to him. 

The screams that he’d thought were a woman’s were starting to just sound like an enraged creature, some terrifying cross between a murderous eagle and a pissed off cougar. Every time a new shriek pierced the air the hairs on the back of his neck stood, the creepy vibes the entire town had been giving off seemed to quadruple in an instant. He did not want to know what was making that noise _at all_. 

“Nealer!?” He called out, “JAMES?” 

“GENO?!” Nealer’s voice came from the direction of the screeching and growling, “I’m here! I can’t - AUGH!!” A sickening wet noise turned whatever Nealer had been going to say into a scream and the roaring increased in intensity. 

Geno forced himself toward, slipping and struggling through the woods in his useless dress shoes, he had to get to Nealer. 

Then he was getting tackled, or at least that’s what it felt like when he was thrown through the air into the mud and the leaves and some foul smelling body landed atop him. He couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, and hearing. Whatever was on him was dark and stringy, pungent with the odour of death and blood, but it was strong anyway, pinning him with claw like fingers that shredded at his coat and shirt scratching him up. It looked down at him with flat reflective eyes over a gaping crooked mouth full of long needle sharp yellowed teeth that spoke of nothing but _hunger_. He fought hard, kicking at it as much as he could, gasping for breath as it compressed his chest. He clawed back at it, but only ended up with handfuls and handfuls of sticky muddy material that squished between his fingers the harder he gripped. It felt like he was tearing the flesh right off of it and the thing- it felt _nothing_. 

All at once it was off of him, taken out by what could only be described as a dog? Several dogs? Maybe? It was dark and his vision was spotty from the lack of oxygen. It sounded like the kind of growling and snapping that happened when dogs fought. He coughed hoarsely, and groped for his gun where he’d dropped it, immediately flicking the safety off. 

He kept his eyes on the tussle happening, but moved back towards where he’d heard Nealer. The screeching of whatever that thing was returned and he fought not to cover his ears. He stole glances behind him to see where he was going and once he finally saw a figure lying on the ground he hurried towards him and dropped to his knees beside him. 

“Nealer!” he looked over him, and it was clear whatever that thing had been trying to do to him, it’d succeeded with Neal. He was bleeding everywhere, there was so much blood and no light, he just stripped his jacket off and pressed it hard into a compress on Nealer’s chest, giving one shaky sob when the blood welled up around his fingers, soaking through his jacket almost immediately. He almost didn’t notice when the shrieking suddenly stopped and the forest was quiet around them.

“Geno!” Sid appeared streaked with mud and blood, rainwater and leaves but otherwise completely nude. HIs chest was heaving, and his eyes were glowing a bright amber - yellow. Apparently his looks weren’t the only thing supernatural about him. 

Letang showed up next, missing his shirt but thankfully still wearing pants, his eyes were an electric glowing blue. Geno gaped at them. 

“ _That_ doesn’t look good.” he came in beside Geno, dropping to his knees to press his hands onto the jacket as well, lifting it a touch to see what was beneath. He pressed two fingers to Nealer’s neck and then gave Sid a significant look. 

“We can’t.” Sid replied to him, head whipping to look over his shoulder at something unheard.

“You have to, it’s the only way he’s going to make it.” 

“Please.” Geno said, not knowing what he was pleading for, but if it had the ability to save Nealer’s life then it was necessary. 

“We don’t have a lot of time. You have to take him immediately to Flower.” Sid joined them, kneeling by Nealer’s other side and grabbing his arm. Before Geno could even process what was happening he was opening his mouth, showing elongated and razor sharp teeth and sinking them straight into his friend’s forearm. After a moment he let go, and wiped his mouth of blood - and Nealer, Nealer shuddered and gasped in Letang’s arms. 

The shrieking that had paused so shortly ago started up again.

“Go! Now!” Letang was lifting Nealer then, like he weighed little more than a small child would and turned, running off faster than Geno had ever seen anyone move. 

“You need to help me.” Sid grabbed Geno’s wrist taking his attention back entirely. “That thing in the woods? It’s a wendigo. We can’t kill it the normal way because it thrives off of death. We have to shoot it in the head with a silver bullet.” Sid slapped a revolver and a plastic bag holding several bullets into Geno’s hand. 

“I can’t load the gun. But you can.”

“I’m-”

“An amazing marksman, I’ve seen your grades. Now do this and you can see how Neal is doing and then we can explain everything,” 

“This thing what killing people? What kill Muriel?” 

There was the snapping of jaws again, snarling and whimpering dogs that Geno was suspecting weren’t dogs at all but maybe other deputies as they battled the angry and injured wendigo - whatever that was. 

“Yeah, it is.” Sid looked up at him, eyes different as they burned brightly, but still earnest. 

“Okay. I’m kill it.” He snapped the revolver open and cracked open the baggy to start loading the gun.

“Good,” Sid began to run off, turning to look back at him over one bare shoulder. In any other circumstance it almost could have been considered _coy._ “And Geno? Try not to hit _me_.” he then leapt forward, and Geno’s brain couldn’t comprehend what actually happened because one moment he was Sid, and the next he was a _very_ familiar large black dog - wolf maybe. 

He couldn’t deal with that right now, he finished loading the gun, and spun the chambers, flipping them back into place before cocking it. He was ready for the thrashing ball of limbs that was crashing through the forest towards him. 

He breathed deeply, sorting through everything he was seeing and identifying his target by its flat famished eyes. He waited for a clear shot, Sid snarling and snapping at it while it barrelled towards Geno, tossing smaller dogs - wolves left and right. 

It was only teen feet away, its wail reaching a deafening pitch when Geno squeezed the trigger twice, one right after the next, and then a third in the heart - if its heart was in the same place a humans was- just in case. 

It collapsed into a heap of smoking rotting flesh and then there were deputies surrounding it in, all of them in various states of undress, already working on whatever needed to be done to dispose of the corpse. 

Sid appeared, human again, naked again and carefully took the gun from his shaking hand. 

“Take him to Flower.” he murmured, and suddenly Letang was back, leading him away at a sure and sedated pace to where a sheriff’s department cruiser was waiting. He crawled into the front seat, cold and numb and muddy. 

Letang rounded the car and took the driver’s seat. He threw it into gear, taking one glance at Geno and cranked the heat on as hot as it would go. Thankfully Letang said nothing as they sped through the downpour, Geno’s shaking turning into outright shivers despite the blasting heat coming out of the vents of the cruiser. He could hardly make sense of the last half an hour, he glanced at the clock in the dashboard. _Two_ hours. It was all a blur and what he was remembering clearly was fragmented. 

He hysterically thought maybe this was just going to be another dream, maybe this town had something in the water that was causing him to have these crazy vivid dreams and he’d wake up and everything would be fine. Nealer’s blood wouldn’t be under his nails and he wouldn’t have the visceral memory of the smell of that _thing’s_ stinking breath fanning over his face. 

Flower’s place turned out to be a quaint little house in the same little neighbourhood that the rundown house was in. There were a few lights on in the house, but Letang lead him around the back towards a massive green house. It was all constructed with wooden beams and real glass walls, it gleamed, glowing from the lit inside out. Walking inside was like being engulfed into a womb, it felt safe, quiet, warm and damp. The dampness might just have been him though. 

A spritely looking woman appeared before them, smacking at Letang’s shoulder and letting out a stream of French quite clearly unimpressed with him. Geno stood there and shivered, blinking dumbly down at her while Letang protested feebly at the treatment he was receiving. Geno toed at the hard-packed earthen floor and waited. When she finally clucked her tongue in what sounded like finality, he looked up again to see her just turn to regard him. 

“I’m very sorry, you must be freezing. I’ll find you a towel and something to change into of Marc-Andre’s.” She laid a hand on his forearm, “I’m Vero, Marc-Andre is my husband.” she said like it explained everything - which well, it kind of did. She disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared and Geno got his first proper look at the green house.

The walls were entirely lined with large open shelves filled with hundreds of plants of all sizes, colours and shapes. There were work tables in the middle, several of them held more plants at various stages of being re-potted or pruned. One table was just some kind of distillery, a mad scientist set up, with beakers and jars and tubes filled with bubbling liquids of various colours. On the final table in the middle was -

“Nealer!” Geno rushed forward in his mushy shoes and socks to his friend’s side. Nealer was pale, his once white shirt stained a dark rusty red where it was still in tatters around his shoulders and under his back. His chest wasn’t a mess however, he looked perfectly fine, like he’d never been touched at all. No one could heal that fast though. He looked over at Flower where he was standing beside a desk he hadn’t noticed before, covered as it was in even more plants, but the desk also had shelves filled with books and bottles with peeling labels and corks. Amber liquid filled vats containing pickled objects of undetermined specificity. 

“How…what…” he didn’t even know what to ask, there were too many questions, too much information that wasn’t making any sense. He was beginning to get a headache.

“James is going to be okay, he’s stable and sleeping.” Flower said quietly, coming over to the table that Nealer was stretched out on, “The bite took.” he said more to Letang than Geno, but he knew what he was talking about and his eyes snapped down to Nealer’s forearm where Crosby had bitten him. The bite was also gone, no trace that it’d ever happened at all. 

“I-” Geno didn’t even know what to say, or where to start, let alone finding the words for it all in English. 

“I’m sure you’re cold, and there’s been a lot to process tonight if what Tanger has told me is right.” Flower rested a hand on his shoulder, “We have time to answer all your questions, let’s get you warmed up, and when you’re ready we’ll see if we can make all of this make sense.” He said gently, grabbing a stool from under one of the other work tables and pulling it out for Geno to perch upon beside Nealer’s table. 

Vero returned then with a fluffy towel, a stack of clean laundry, and a steaming mug of tea. He stripped out of his dripping, filthy clothes right there, unwilling to leave, lest when he came back everything was different, or when he turned around he’d be back in his bed at home, the whole trip actually a dream. 

He didn’t realize what a relief it was to be in dry clothing until he was towelling his hair and feeling the ache and shake of his shoulders from how tense they had been. He balled up the towel and looked at Nealer’s unmarked skin again, ready to draw some conclusions. 

“You’re.” Geno glanced up at Letang who looked almost startled to have been addressed so abruptly, “You’re werewolf.” He didn’t ask, he was fairly certain the only being that could deliver a bite that might save someone’s life was some kind of shifter, and with the wolf-looking dogs he’d seen in the woods…it was the only logical conclusion.

Letang nodded once, flashing his vibrant blue eyes at him before they faded back to his regular brown. 

“Sid too.” He looked at Flower and Letang this time, they both nodded. 

“Sid’s the alpha or uh, the _leader_ of the Crosby pack. We protect and have custody of an area that spans from Nova Scotia to New Hampshire.” He was sure Letang was giving him the abridged version and was content with that for the moment.

“All of you police?”

“No, but it sure makes it easier to block the feds that come calling when a wendigo shows up and starts killing people.” Geno actually snorted at that, feeling punch drunk and weary. 

“You not human either.” He jutted his chin at Flower whose grin was looking a little otherworldly at the moment. He didn’t know how he’d never noticed before how manic and elfin his features truly were. There’s no way he was 100% human. 

“No,” Flower said ruefully through his grin, “Not entirely. I’m a mix of things my friend. Fae, nymph, fairy, I think there might have been a kitsune in there somewhere too.” he paused, eyes sliding back to Geno with curiosity. “How did you know?” 

“Interview.” Geno grunted, “Felt drugged, too sleepy, confused. Immediately feel better when we done talk.” he didn’t even need confirmation, the way Flower beamed about his successful hex, or whatever it’d been, was enough, “Also.” He gestured to the green house around them. There was no question it wasn’t exactly _normal_ no matter how eccentric the owner.

“Okay, explain to me from start, what is wendigo, what it want.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and watched as Letang lifted himself to sit on one of the other work tables settling in for a long story. 

—

When he finally blearily stumbled back to his motel room (key retrieved from his sodden and bloody jacket) the sun was long above the horizon and Sidney Crosby waiting for him inside. He was sitting calmly at the small table in front of their case board wall and didn’t look up when he shut the door and leaned against it. Geno wanted to say he was surprised but he wasn’t. By now after hours of talk with Flower and Letang (and then a much needed cat nap on Flower’s sofa, where he thankfully and regrettably woke up in exactly the same predicament he found himself falling asleep in) he knew Sid had the entire town under his control. Whatever he said _goes_. 

He wanted to be mad that Sid had basically been making a fool of him and his investigation since the moment he’d arrived but he knew that if their positions were reversed, he’d have done the exact same thing to protect his people, his family. 

“I assume Flower told you what’s really going on?” Sid asked quietly after several moments of silence hung loudly between them. They made eye contact at long last. Sid looked tired but still beautiful. Geno hated him for it a little bit, he knew he probably looked like so much road kill. But that was the difference between a thirty something human-being and a supernatural creature of the night apparently. 

“Yes.” 

“How’s your friend?” 

“Will live to be Lazy another day.” Sid smiled faintly at him and then looked at his hands. “What happen to him now? He’s werewolf?” Geno sluggishly crossed the room to collapse onto the bed, letting himself bounce there where he sat. 

“Yes. He was bitten without his consent in dire circumstances to save is life. He’ll now be adopted by the Crosby Pack as a show of good faith since he was turned against his will in our territory.” Sid looked at him for a long moment, “We’ll take care of him, make sure he knows what he’s doing, that he has a family and a home here with us, if he wants it.” 

Geno nodded firmly. Flower had already explained to him that Nealer would probably be out of it for a few days at the very least, getting used to new ‘super senses’. Letang added that being turned was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, it was like re-learning to walk, but everything was bright and loud and beautiful and horrible and aggravating and upsetting at the same time. 

In Geno’s silence, Sid had taken the opportunity to turn to face him directly, observing him while he thought. 

“You know...you talk to yourself in Russian sometimes?” He asked with a small smile on his face, “It drove me crazy at first. I couldn’t get any sort of read on you. People don’t realize how much they talk to themselves, and I usually use it as an opportunity to get in their heads. It’s a little like mind reading I guess.” Sid smiled for a moment and then shook his head, “But you like Russian, and I don’t know it.” 

“Don’t _like_ Russian, Sid. Am Russian.” 

“Yeah. You’re not like any other Fed I’ve ever met. You’re not like any other _person_ I’ve ever met.” His tone went syrupy at the end, full of meaning and a touch of fear at what that meant to him. 

“You say this? _I’m_ say this.” Sid was the last kind of person he ever thought he’d meet, he wasn’t even entirely _human._ Sid choked a laugh for him.

“This whole investigation has been out of control from the moment you showed up. _I’ve_ been out of control. I’m never like this, scatterbrained, shy, and then showing off. I’ve been lying awake at night just _thinking_ about you. At first you were just intriguing, because you’re so difficult to read, you smelled like hopelessness and heartache but also determination and attraction.” 

Flower had also informed him, to Geno’s utter mortification that werewolves could scent emotions, hear heartbeats for lies and other up-ticks, and generally got far too involved in each others business. That was just what happened when you couldn’t tell a lie and could just sniff out the truth anyway. Letang had smirked at him knowingly, and Geno had dropped his face into his hands for a solid ten minutes thinking about the way he must have been broadcasting his feelings for their sheriff. 

“Not going to give compliment, already know what you look like.” He said at last resorting to faux grumpiness, feeling his cheeks flushing in retrospective embarrassment. There had been so many moments he’d caught Sid peering at him just after he’d finished thinking about his ridiculous mouth or imagining how Sid’s hips would feel under his palms. 

“I’m used to people being attracted to me.” He said looking uncomfortable with the very idea of it, “I’m not so used to people -” He pursed his lips, unsure if he wanted to say what was coming next. Geno knew it was inevitable.

“Say it. Already know.” 

“I-I’m not very used to people just _blooming_. Attraction being replaced so quickly with affection, and even maybe-” 

“Love.” Geno finished for him, “Maybe not yet,” he conceded with a bob of his head, “but could be, would be. I’m feel same. Everything about this town been weird. Case, people, food, feelings.” He rubbed at his chest where it was bruised from the wendigo and the forest and then leaned back on the bed, dropping his head back to look at the generic watercolour hanging above the headboard. He let out an expansive sigh.

“I do feel it too you know.” Fingertips brushed his knee cap through his borrowed sweats and when he pulled his head back up properly, Sid was crouching before him, weary, but with those incredibly clear, and sharp hazel eyes trained unwaveringly upon him. 

Before Geno could really think too hard about what he was doing, he sat up properly, reaching out and taking ahold of Sid’s face on either side of his jaw, fingertips coaxing him closer. He ducked his head and kissed him. It felt right in a way he’d never experienced before. All the cliched phrases about kisses feeling like coming home no longer seemed that over wrought at all. When the kiss ended naturally, Sid took in a great lungful of air through his nose, scenting maybe, eyelashes fluttering against Geno’s nose and cheek, and then kissed him again, harder this time.

Geno pulled him closer, leaning back as Sid pushed up and into it until they were overbalancing back onto the bed. Geno blinked up at him but only for a moment before they were drawn together again. 

Sid flinched back suddenly, hissing and pulling his hands away from him, sitting back on his thighs, straddling Geno who looked at him in a total confused daze at what was going on.

“Your medallions.” Sid said apologetically glancing away from his hand and down at where Geno’s necklace had fallen out of his shirt and was hanging free. “They’re silver.” 

Geno laughed for a moment, hysterical at the thought as he reached up and undid the clasp at the back of his neck. He held the delicate chain aloft with the saint medals swaying softly alongside his cross. 

“They a gift from Mama. To protect from _evil_.” He grinned at the way Sid frowned at them and tossed them onto the side table easily. He pulled Sid closer once more, nuzzling into his cheek, nosing his jaw while Sid pressed kisses wherever he could reach. 

“If _this_ the evil it keep away, I don’t want good.” he pulled Sid back down for another proper kiss, fully intending to indulge himself with that sinful mouth as much as possible. 

He grew hard as they kissed, fingering at the buttons of Sid’s uniform shirt, slowly slipping them free, one by one. Sid ground down into him at a steady and luxurious pace, his thighs and hips warm to the touch through the fabric of his pants. 

When he had Sid’s shirt unbuttoned and was tugging at his belt, Sid’s hands were already all the way up his borrowed tee and he bucked with a frustrated moan. 

“Too hard, take off clothes while on top.” 

“I can move.” Sid said softly, already shifting off and away while Geno whined in protest. Then he was stripping off his uniform piece by piece, revealing all the miles of firm unmarked skin that Geno had seen before, but hadn’t had a moment to appreciate. He fought gracelessly with his own clothes where he still lay on the bed, making Sid honk with laughter and then reach out help him tug the sweats off his legs. 

When they finally came back together, Sid cradled between his thighs with nothing between them, it felt electric. Sid was warm to the touch, warmer than usual, even for a romp in bed. 

“You okay? Feel hot.” Geno ran one hand through Sid’s hair, the other clasping the warm nape of his neck while Sid sucked at his collarbone. 

“I’m fine. Wolf core body temp is a few degrees hotter than human.” He moved up, shifting to kiss him again while also dragging their cocks together for a moment. 

“Mmm.” Geno imagined how nice that would be on cold nights, his personal Sid shaped hot water bottle to cuddle close. It was possible he was a little punch drunk on fatigue and lust, the way they were starting to rock together pushing all other coherent thoughts from his mind. 

Sid’s face stayed tucked close to Geno’s neck, scenting, licking, even gently biting - but he wasn’t worried, they were no more feral and dangerous than any other love bites he’d ever experienced. one of his arms stayed propped to the side, giving him a little leverage to thrust down and to keep from crushing Geno entirely, although he probably would have enjoyed being crushed a bit. The other hand had a firm hold on his thigh, holding it open, tracing the length of it back and forth. 

“God, your legs are _so long_.” Sid panted into his jaw, sucking another kiss into place and snapping his hips a touch harder. 

“Like that?” Geno questioned breathlessly and slid the leg not being held, up and down, dragging his foot practically the entire length of Sid’s tensed leg. Sid made a wounded noise, hips losing rhythm to jolt against him. 

Geno took the opportunity that Sid’s hands being occupied afforded him to grope him freely then, tracing his fingers over shoulder blades, dips and ridges of spine, taking two great handfuls of ass to pull him even closer, choking his own moan out at the sensation it caused when Sid jerked again and laughed. 

They both laughed into each others mouths, swallowing the sound quickly when it turned into muffled noises of pleasure. Sid pulled back a touch to look at him properly, flush high in his cheeks and down his neck, eyes vibrant and wide with pleasure. 

“Can I-” Sid huffed breathlessly, eyes sweeping down bashfully, lashes resting on cheeks, “Can I come on you?” he asked so politely, like Geno was going to say anything but yes. He rolled his eyes and pulled Sid’s hips closer again, arching his own up into their dirty grind. 

“Mad if you not.” that seemed to open the gates to the end. The speed and intensity in which they frotted together increased, hips jostling almost uncomfortably, the drag of skin against skin a painful good, like nails raking down your back. 

Sid starting making choked little noises in the back of his throat at the end of every thrust, sounding desperate and frantic, finally pushing up to pull apart just far enough to get a hand on himself, jerking his cock the last few inches into orgasm, spurting across Geno’s belly, redden hips and cock. He gasped for breath and collapsed down out of his plank into the space beside Geno’s right hip, but also draped over him, warm and sweaty, heaving. 

“I got you,” he said breathlessly, smearing his hand through the mess on Geno’s abdomen and taking hold of his cock. Geno jerked at the feeling of a hand on him at last, eyes rolling back at the firm wet glide suddenly dragging him back to the edge when he’d already been so close. Sid went back to sucking at his neck, muttering about how good he was, how good he tasted and smelt and looked. 

Geno found himself surrendering to his own orgasm just like that, with his hand clutching at Sid’s hair and Sid’s teeth in his neck. They lay there sticky and supine for countless moments, catching their breaths together. Geno worked to re-collect his language skills. 

“Next time, I’m want your mouth.” He finally said and Sid let out a peal of giggles at that, sitting up, and that was the opposite of what Geno wanted. 

“It’s like that huh?” he ducked in for a lingering kiss and when he pulled back his eyes were practically sparkling, “I’m going to get something to clean up with. Stay right there.” he slipped off the bed and into the washroom, completely at ease with his nudity. Geno looked up at the ceiling and sent up a silent thanks for whoever was looking out for him if his future involved that unexpected naked ass whenever he wanted it. 

—

After they were clean (and ate the sandwiches that Sid bashfully admitted he’d bought and stored in Geno’s room’s mini fridge just in case) they lay together in the bed, tracing fingers over moles and freckles, cupids bows and eyebrows. They spent countless moment tasting apples of cheeks and tips of ears in slow unhurried exploration. 

“Why.” Sid hesitated, throat thick from a period of disuse and low in the hush between them. Dust danced in the afternoon sunlight that spilled over the bed from a crack in the curtains, “Why were you so heartbroken when you first came here?” he asked at last and Geno sighed expansively, rolling onto his back.

“Wasn’t always. Happy once, _married_ once.” he rolled his head back over to see where Sid was watching him rapt and worried, “Been long time since happy. Divorced last year. When I’m come here, still…pouting.” he was embarrassed to admit it. He held onto the heartbreak and the hurt for far longer than he should have considering how bad the relationship had been by the end, how much he’d wanted it to end. But he was humiliated by it, by his ex and their words. He still heard them in the back of his head all the time, criticizing, picking and picking at him until he was bloody and raw. In the end it was those things, their forever mounting dissatisfaction with him that had caused the end of their marriage. He never thought he’d be someone to get divorced. So he’d moped and he’d pouted and he hadn’t moved on.

“I’m sorry, that must have been difficult.” Sid said somewhat stiffly and Geno smiled at him ruefully. 

“Don’t have to pretend be sad about.” he assured him and Sid shook his head. 

“I think they’re stupid for letting you go, but that doesn’t make your feelings less real.” Sid shifted to pillow his head on his arm, earnest and sweet. 

“Was right thing to do, I’m stupid for not move on ’til now.” 

“What happened now?” Sid asked, although his expression said he already knew, he was just fishing for compliments. 

“Bitten by werewolf.” Geno bit his tongue, letting it poke through his smile as Sid huffed and batted at him with a pillow. They tussled for a few moments before separating at last, laughing in each other’s faces and re-settling facing each other. Fatigue was starting to weigh on Geno in earnest, but before he slept there was one last thing he had to hear from Sid. 

“You watch me?” Geno narrowed his eyes at Sid in thought. Sid looked genuinely puzzled at that.

“What do you mean?” 

“Black dog, watch me, follow everywhere. Come sleep in my bed, gone in morning. That you.” Sid buried his face into his arm, groaning and peeking one guilty eye out at him. 

“Yeah. That was me.” he sighed. 

“Why.” Geno didn’t feel the need to elaborate, it was self explanatory that it needed justification. 

“At first I was doing recon, making sure you weren’t getting too close to any actual facts about the case. and then the other night…we had just spent all day together working the case, and you’d had a rough morning, I could tell how much you didn’t like being around the body, everyone could. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I wanted to stay close.” his mouth twisted in an odd parody of a smile, “When you caught me I swore I was going to run off, but then you were speaking to me so sweetly in Russian, it seemed like maybe you needed a companion as badly as I needed to make sure you were alright.” 

“Think I’m dream whole thing when I’m wake up.” Geno laughed to himself about it looking back, “Have worst time try to figure out how dog get out. Think I’m go crazy. Then you’re not meet for run, terrible mood.” 

“I know. I woke up and realized I was going to have to leave as a human before you tried to put me in a kennel or something. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done any of that, or put you in that position.” Sid said softly and Geno nodded sleepily tucking himself further into the blankets at last. 

“Don’t matter. Better to sleep with now.” Geno smiled drowsily, “less fur in bed.” 

The last thing he heard before he was asleep was Sid’s answering huff-honk. 

—

The next time Geno opened his eyes it was dark outside. His phone said it was early in the morning, just before sunrise. He’d slept for a solid twelve hours. 

He stretched luxuriously in bed, turning over all the events of the past forty-eight hours in his mind. He turned his head and saw the empty side of the bed where Sid had once been. He reached out - the sheets were cool, he hadn’t just left or gotten up to use the washroom then. He firmly pushed down the cold pit that settled immediately in his gut. He could handle a brush off.

Geno sat up slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He needed a shower and to check in with the office, skipping out on contacting them yesterday had been a mistake, but he hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly within the realms of reality after an entire evening of supernatural hijinx. 

He headed off to the shower, taking his time soaping his whole aching body, working his shampoo into a proper lather in his hair. When he wiped down the mirror to brush his teeth and shave he was met with the image of himself reflected back at him, but his neck was newly adored with a large dark love bite. He stared at it in shock for a moment. He didn’t remember Sid being that aggressive with the neck stuff, but then again, he hadn’t exactly been thinking all that clearly in the moment. 

Leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam, he set the small coffee pot in his room to brew and then finally checked his messages. There were four missed calls, three text messages and twelve work related emails. He let out a low whistle and opened his computer to get to work on the emails.

In the day Sid and Geno had spent in bed, the rest of the sheriff’s department had gotten to work. They had filed a full report detailing exactly what had happened, with key details changed to make the whole thing look like the work of a black bear that had contracted a particular strain of rabies that made it attack at random, unprovoked. He didn’t read the whole thing, it made his head hurt to comprehend that many lies all at once. 

In reply, his office had called off their investigation, and when they didn’t immediately hear a reply several more missives were sent internally before they contacted the sheriff’s station for a report on his and Nealer’s whereabouts. The locals had reported both of them had been injured in the altercation with the bear that had finally taken it out, but they were recuperating and would be in contact when they could. 

Geno did get in contact with their superiors, acquiescing the recall to Washington and getting his and Nealer’s affairs in order to return. He filed a matching report to the sheriff’s and called it a day after several hours worth of staring at his screen and working in meticulous English.

He stretched out his stiff muscles, checked the time, and then decided he would pay Nealer a visit. He’d re-gained consciousness and been moved to Letang’s house in the hours since he’d last seen him. He looked healthy and strong although still sitting in bed when Geno was let into the Letang’s guest room.

“Ugh I could smell you coming a mile away.” he said in reply to how was he doing, and then clamped his hands over his ears. 

“I’m learning.” he whispered. “Its crazy, but it’s also pretty cool.” He thought for a moment and then his eyes were glowing blue just like Letang’s did. 

“Pretty cool right? They’re blue because I was bitten. They’re yellow if you’re born a wolf.” Geno nodded, objectively it was pretty cool, but he was preoccupied by the encroaching consequences of reality tamping down his enthusiasm. 

“I’m have go back to Washington. You be okay here alone?” he crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the way Nealer shifted in the bed, eyes jerking to the window where he’d heard a bird flying by before Geno could even see it. 

“Yeah. I’ve already put in a request for medical leave. I’m…I’m not sure if I’m going to go back.” he swallowed, “Everything is just so new and - the feeling of the pack bond is pretty…intense.” he shrugged picking at the comforter tucked around him.

“What you do up here, Lazy?” Geno joked with him, batting at one of his feet. 

“I don’t know yet, maybe join the police department.” Nealer grinned cheekily back at him. He looked scared, but also maybe like he’d accidentally stumbled into his place in the world.

— 

By the time he was grabbing a bite to eat at _Isabella’s_ that evening and saying his goodbyes to Horny, he’d firmly come to terms with what it meant that Sid hadn’t gotten in contact with him for the whole day. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where Geno was, or how to get ahold of him. Clearly the previous day had been a mistake fuelled by too little sleep, some kind of resolution to sexual tension and nothing more. Who knew what alpha werewolves even wanted, could they date casually? Could they date the same sex for that matter or was it kind of like royalty and he was expected to create a line of succession.

He’d probably woken up - if he’d ever fallen asleep that is - taken one look at Geno and realized what he’d done. Then he’d just snuck out the same way he had as a dog considering it’d worked so well the first time.

He felt small at that thought. Wounded in a new, distinct and yet familiar way. This was how it always went and he didn’t know why. He still had a lot of questions that he was resigning himself to never having the answers to. 

When he checked out of the motel and climbed back into the car, his chest was aching in the same way it had been when they’d driven into town. This time the heartache was fresh and he was weary and resigned in a way he’d never experienced before. He touched the medallions and cross he’d fastened back around his neck and tired to feel some of his mother’s love and protection like she’d intended for him, then.

The drive back took twice as long as the drive there, with only him to do all the work, so he had a long time to think. His mind circled about werewolves, Sid, Nealer, the wendigo, back to Sid. That man still made little to no sense. He wished he’d never fallen asleep, he wished he’d kept asking Sid questions until he knew every little piece of him, until he couldn’t hide from him.

Outside of the weird dreamy magical vibes that Forks had given off the rest of the world was in contrast a vibrant disgusting hyper reality in HD. He felt like he’d spent the past month living in a television show and now he was back in the land of people who were less than stunningly attractive and who all had to pay taxes. 

Washington, when he finally rolled into town was just as beautiful and grubby as he remembered it. Sprawling in every direction was history and buildings and people, so many people, and none of them knew his name or what kind of tea he liked to drink or anything. He could drown in blissful anonymity. 

When he opened the door to his condo and the stale air of it rolled over him, he realized what a fucked up existence he was truly living. The walls were the same beige they’d been when he moved in, the first thing he’d found after the divorce that he could afford. There was nothing of his in the place, even the furniture he used belonged to the building. He’d truly been living his life on pause since the divorce and only now seemed to realize it. 

Forks had done something to him, and even in his short time there he’d gotten used to its cozy charm. People knew his name there and said hello while he was having coffee. There was a simplicity to having one post office, and one vet clinic, the sheriff’s station knit tightly into the community. 

In his home now, Geno had three photos of his family and one house warming cactus that Nealer had given him. He had beige walls, a cactus, a newly re-broken heart.

His life was pathetic.

He focused on work for the next week, getting back into the groove at the office, answering well wisher’s questions about Nealer and sinking back into the rhythm of his life before Forks. That’s how he’d started thinking about things: Before Forks and After Forks.

He took a few local cases, just small time stuff, vandalism, petty theft. He was still waiting to get a new partner assigned to him and that’s why he was alone when a simple call to check into a robbery ended with him being sucker punched, blindfolded with a sack over his head and knocked out as a cloth is held to his nose and mouth, its sickly sweet smell making everything go black. 

Geno woke up when the van he was in rolled to a stop. He felt eight times hungover and was hearing Russian? His captors prodded him out of the van and dumped him into a chair. The sack was whisked off his head and he blinked in the newness of the light to his eyes. He didn’t know where he was, but it looked like maybe a warehouse or a parking garage, based on the concrete floor, the van parked nearby, and the shadowy architecture he could see outside the puddle of light they were in. 

When looked forward properly it was only to see the manic grinning face of a man with a crooked nose, greying hair and beard and a missing front tooth. He looked crazy, but his eyes were so fiercely blue Geno closed his own again and groaned. 

«Not more wolves.» 

«Yes! More wolves!» The man seemed absolutely delighted by his ability to speak Russian and ordered him to be untied immediately. He settled into chair within interviewing distance of Geno, crossing one ankle over the other knee, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

«This is so pleasant a surprise! I was told an interloper has come into my territory only to find out we are countrymen! And you smell of Alpha mate! We’re brothers you and I!» The man was boisterous, excited and showy. Geno felt immensely tired, his headache splitting. 

«Look I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know your name–»

«Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin.» The man - Ovechkin supplied helpfully. He didn’t look concerned at all that he’d just given his full name to a virtual stranger, especially someone who could very well be intent on causing him harm. He was either actually as crazy as he looked or very stupid.

«Fine, Alexander Mikhailovich, I don’t know–»

«Please, call me Ovi.» That gap tooth grin again.

«Whatever. My point is, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Evgeni, I’m an FBI agent, I live in Washington DC, and have for years. I was just on assignment for a couple weeks. There must be some misunderstanding.» Ovechkin folded his hands and nodded contemplatively. 

«In Maine?» Geno swore he couldn’t have heard that right.

«What?»

«Your assignment, it was in Maine was it not?» There’s no way Ovechkin could have or should have known that. Geno assessed the fact he wasn’t tied up, they didn’t seem to think he was a threat, and if they were actually werewolves… His grogginess was evaporating as he realized the potential danger he was actually in.

«How do you know that?»

«You smell like Crosby’s jock.» Ovechkin announced with no small amount of amusement but also a disgusted curl of his lip. He eyed Geno carefully then, lingering for a long time on where the mark on his neck lived, it hadn’t faded at all in the week he’d been home.

«I understand your predicament, friend, but I cannot allow another Alpha’s mate in my territory. I am generous to a fault however and so I shall give you twenty four hours to take your things and go.»

«Go? Where? I live here, I work here. This is my life.»

«Don’t worry! We’ll have it taken care of!» Ovechkin grinned cheerfully and gestured shortly for the others behind Geno to come forward. 

«Wait! Taken care of how? You can’t just run me out of the city!» He argued, trying to appeal to whatever hidden rational side Ovechkin may possess. The wolf just narrowed his eyes, his grin turning mean in an instant.

«I think you’ll find I _can_ , and more importantly _I will_. Give Crosby my regards.» Another flick of his wrist and then the sack from before was being thrust back down over his head despite his shout of protest, «It was good to meet you Zhenya! May I call you Zhenya? You must visit again!»

—

When he was finally released (read pushed from the van with his wallet and phone thrown onto him) he got his bearings and realized he wasn’t actually that far from where he lived. He shuddered, thinking of how they clearly knew more about him than he was strictly comfortable with. He did an inventory of his person, his badge and gun were both still missing, and went on his way, disgruntled and shocked to find when he powered on his phone that he’d been missing for at least twelve hours. 

Curiously there were only a few messages waiting for him. When he checked his text history however he saw that his kidnappers had sent messages from him assuring anyone who inquired that he was fine. It sent chills crawling up his spine and so he checked the rest of his apps for similar interference and tampering. When he checked his email, he was astounded to find a letter detailing his own suspension and impending retirement and another follow up reply of his own readily agreeing to the terms of employment termination. 

He’d also apparently been busy sending emails to his landlord explaining that he was moving effective immediately and would be breaking his lease. 

He contemplated fighting it for a minute, calling the office and explaining what had actually happened, but he didn’t know what he’d say to make them believe him. _Yes, hi, It’s me, Evgeni. So the thing is, werewolves kidnapped me while I was working and told me I had to leave town because apparently I smell like a small town sheriff in Maine. So all these emails were actually their doing, see, they’re quite powerful and apparently sewn into law enforcement all over the place so they can pull off stunts like this._

Geno thought it over. There were no guarantees that his superiors weren’t already part of Ovechkin’s pack, or gang or whatever is was they wanted to call themselves.

He was essentially being kicked out of his own life.

He stumbled home in a daze. He was lost and with no real place in the universe, his entire home he’d built in this city, this _country_ had somehow evaporated without him even realizing it. It felt like his fault, and the beige walls of his condo suddenly filled him with rage. He packed up all his clothing, the few pictures he had of family and friends and his cactus. That was it, his entire life. It all fit in the trunk of his car. He remembered being a teenager and moving to the United States, he’d had so many things, so many trinkets he hadn’t wanted to part with. It’d been excruciating going through his life and deciding what was important enough to take across an ocean and what was not. This meagre living was equally hard but in a completely different way. It was coming face to face with the fact you were a ghost in your own life, hardly living at all. 

He slammed the trunk of his car closed, strapped his cactus into the passenger seat and started driving. He didn’t know where he was going, but he wasn’t surprised to find himself turning north. His anger dissipated a little during the drive, ebbing and flowing through truck stops, sniffling and feeling sorry for himself through several MacDonald’s in the north east. He wondered if he had a reputation yet, _that crying Russian man, watch out for him._

When he found himself rolling into a sleepy town in Maine, he was back to feeling furious. The mark on his neck was tingling, burning almost. The weird feeling that Forks gave off setting his teeth on edge, and his knuckles turned white on his steering wheel. He slammed into the sheriff’s station practically snarling with rage. Reception gave him a wide eyed look but made no move to stop him as he stormed in, through the bullpen and marched all the way back to where Sid was slumped at his desk. 

He looked like shit, and Geno was cruelly pleased about it for a minute. He slammed the door to the office closed behind him. Sid looked up at him with wide startled eyes. 

“Do you know, what has happen to me in the last week? Hm?” Geno asked carefully, enunciating and trying not to drop any of the shitty little unnecessary words that English speakers seemed to save up and spew out at random.

“First werewolf.” He ticked off on his fingers, “Friend turn into werewolf, leave job, need new partner. Complete new universe, world. Then get blown off by guy I like, fine, happens, sucks. Go home, nothing at home, home is shit, hate it. Work boring, terrible, no Nealer. Get _kidnapped, drugged_ by _Russian_ werewolf _mafia._ Told I have to leave city, my home because I _smell._ Get fired because they want, move out, because _they want._ ” He’s shouting by the end of it the whole last week tripping out of him and onto Sid’s desk, “Final, neck mark won’t stop itch!” 

He rubbed at the mark on his neck that has started outright burning while he was speaking. Sid stood up slowly, hands held out in a non threatening manner and rounded his desk to stand before Geno, eyes lingering on the mark on his neck. 

“I didn’t realize it would imprint so quickly.” He said under his breath, like Geno wasn’t standing a foot and a half from him and could hear him perfectly, “I’m sorry. We can visit Flower and he can break the bond.” He met Geno’s eyes sounding defeated and all the vinegar drained out of Geno at once. He collapsed into one of the chairs before Sid’s desk in exhaustion. 

“Just tell what happen. So confuse, only know about all this for one week.” He lifted one finger in illustration and then took a chance and gathered one of Sid’s hands into his. Sid was motionless for a moment and then squeezed Geno’s hand back tightly. He shuffled back and over to perch on the edge of his desk before him. 

“The mark on your neck is a mating bite, it’s normal. It just means we’re very compatible.” Sid bit his lip like he wanted to say more but didn’t. He looked at the mark again and reached out, “May I?” 

Geno tilted his neck in acquiescence and then Sid’s fingers were being traced lightly over the mark, cool to the touch and soothing at last. He sighed in relief. 

"This just happen? Normal?" Geno asked, his eyes closed, fully enjoying the way Sid’s touch felt like it was releasing pure relaxation into his entire body from his neck. Sid made it sound casual which was a relief, the way Ovechkin was talking it sounded like they’d gotten werewolf married or something.

“Yeah,” Sid said softly, changing from just touching with fingertips to laying his palm on Geno’s neck, thumb tucked behind the hinge of his jaw, “We can get Flower to remove it tomorrow, it shouldn’t cause you any more grief.” 

“Think this be harder to deal with.” Geno confessed, “Other wolf, Ovechkin, make sound very serious.” 

Sid’s look grew dark and he sighed. 

“I’m sorry about that. Once it’s removed you should be able to return home. I can talk to Ovechkin for you and explain the situation. Hopefully nothing too irreparable has happened. Knowing Ovechkin though, its probably bad.” Sid looked positively wracked with guilt.

“Not your fault.” He said it even though he knew it kind of was directly Sid’s fault. If it was so normal to create these marks, and they mean something to other packs why would he have done it to Geno knowing he was just going to leave? 

“I’ll call Flower and make sure he’s ready to break the bond tomorrow. You can stay that long?” 

Geno nodded affirmative, and then Sid pulled his hands back entirely, standing up once again. Geno followed suit, standing and feeling absolutely drained from the confrontation and the easing of his irritated neck.

He left the office feeling sheepish at how he’d stormed in, slinking through the bullpen trying to attract absolutely no attention. He was almost all the way out when he heard his name being called.

“Geno!” Letang. The deputy jogged over to catch him, looking over his shoulder at where Sid’s door had just latched shut, “Hey, you’re back?” 

“Yes. Long story. Need to get-” he gestured to his neck and mark, “removed.” Letang looked at the mark with wide eyes and then back at the still closed door of the Sheriff’s.

“Sid made that?” he asked looking shocked. 

“Say is normal, happen many time.” He fought the urge to cover his neck with one hand. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Letang didn’t sound convincing at all. With the way he was lying to Geno and the way Sid had looked ashen and guilt wracked about the whole thing, he smelt some bullshit being dealt to him en masse. 

“Not normal is it?” He asked resigned and Letang looked at him for a minute, glanced over his shoulder presumably to make sure the office door was still firmly shut and then shook his head. 

“Okay. Thanks for tell.” he resigned himself to another confrontation with Sid. But not right now, right now he was tried. He turned to leave once more but stopped as Letang grabbed his arm. 

“What, that’s it?” Letang seemed surprised he didn’t have follow up questions. Geno shrugged expansively.

“Not your job to explain.” 

“You’re right. I– I can’t.” he dropped Geno’s arm. 

“Don’t. Bye Letang. Leaving now.” 

“You can call me Tanger you know.” 

He gave Le—Tanger a flap of his hand over his shoulder and left the building, looking forward to a mug of tea at _Isabella’s_ and then a well deserved nap. He should get paid to put up with this bullshit. _Werewolves._

—

Geno ended up in the same motel room he’d been staying in before. He thought maybe that was the reason he woke up fresh from a dream about Sid running through the woods as a wolf. He’d started awake just as wolf Sid had started howling, all his anguish and heartache needed to be sung to the moon. Geno smushed his face back into his pillow, parsing wolf Sid’s feelings was, if possible, even more difficult than understanding Sid’s regular feelings.

He looked at the clock and laughed to himself when he saw it was right when he’d always set his alarm to wake him up before. The one time in his life he could sleep for as long as he wanted - being unemployed and run out of town that is - and he was naturally waking up on time. 

He sat up and decided he might as well get one last run through the town in. 

The town was exactly the same, weird, creepy at times, less dangerous for sure, but somehow now it made more sense. He was seeing things he’d never paid attention to before. It was like now that he knew there were supernatural beings and creatures and witches and everything from every fairytale pretty much a layer of film had been taken off of the world around him. 

The book store had a huge occult section he’d thought was just new-agey before. The group of women that met in the town square to knit weren’t just trading gossip, but spells? Hexes for their neighbours at the very least. Even the children that tussled on the playgrounds had glowing eyes while they growled and snapped at each other. How many people were missing so many obvious things because they’d been told it wasn’t possible? 

He was rounding the bend where the old abandoned house stood when he heard a second set of footsteps join him. He fought off the grin that threatened to spread over his face. 

“Don’t need make sure I’m not eat by wendigo anymore.” He said lightly, not turning his head to look at where he knew Sid was to his right. 

“Maybe I’m just picking up good habits.” 

“Maybe you just like spend time.” Geno looked at him out of the corner of his eye now, He was wearing a black baseball cap and a small smile. 

“Yeah…I do.” Geno let Sid’s earnest words weigh heavily between them for several more steps. 

“Why you leave in morning, Sid?” 

“I’d- I’d already overstayed my welcome. When I saw that mark on you I panicked. I’d made a claim I hadn’t courted for. Can– can we stop for a second?” He reached out to gently touch Geno’s elbow as they slowed to a stop and wandered just off the path and out of other potential joggers’ ways. They faced each other, breathing heavily, damp t-shirts sticking to their chests. 

“You just make me crazy and I do things before I’m even thinking about it.” Sid’s clear eyes are wide and afraid, “I thought if you wanted to keep seeing me you’d come find me. You’re a human you need freedom.” he said like he was reciting from some _How To Treat Your Humans_ handbook.

“You read in book?” Geno pointed at him sternly, “See in movie? I’m human yes, _not_ mind reader. Still only know some thing about werewolf, about _you_. Not make it easy for me.” Sid looked guilty again. Geno took a step forward and gathered Sid’s face in his palms, tipping him up so he couldn’t hide under the brim of his hat. 

“You’re most dumb, you know?” he traced the pads of his thumbs over Sid’s cheekbones while a pink flush spread over them. 

“I–I’ve been told that before.” Geno looked over his entire face and then moved one hand to take Sid’s hat and set it on his head backwards.

“Most difficult.” he sighed and then dipped in to kiss him anyway. When they pulled apart Geno regarded him wearily. 

“You answer question now? Honest?” Sid nodded in his hands, and Geno let his hands drift to Sid’s shoulders, unwilling to let him get far yet. 

“Do you actually want bond break?” 

“No, never. I want to keep my mark on you forever.” Sid blurted quickly, gentle flush turning into an embarrassed stain on his cheeks. Geno grinned at that. 

“Now tell, mark important? Bond important?” Sid took hold of Geno’s elbows, not pulling, just holding him there. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed nervously, “What I said before was true, the marks are normal, the mating bonds are normal and do happen at random, but usually only two or three times in one wolf’s lifetime. It’s a bit like finding a– a soulmate.” Geno’s eyebrows climbed at that. 

“Big deal, Sid.” 

“The bond is…it’s integral to pack hierarchy. Strong pair or family bonds create a strong pack. The Alpha especially needs support from more than just the rest of the pack. There needs to be a mate, a second that can balance and over-rule the Alpha when necessary. My parents tried for years to find someone suitable for me. If I don’t have a mate soon I’ll have to pass the Alpha title on to someone else.” 

“You want me be second of pack? Or just want anyone before too late?” 

“The first one. I was sad about giving it up potentially, leading the pack means a lot to me. I feel honoured to be the Alpha, but I was ready. And as for you being my second…. yeah, I want that. It’s early, but it feels right. We have a strong bond, If you were a wolf I’d say we’d probably both have memory and emotional transfer in dreams.” 

Geno tightened his hold on Sid’s shoulders at that, looking at him with dawning realization. 

“Dream, like while sleep?” he wanted confirmation he wasn’t misunderstanding. 

“Yeah… why?”

“I’m have dreams. ‘Crosby dreams’. You talk to Flower, Tanger about wendigo, call me ‘hot fed’. Pick up dry cleaning while talk on phone with Flower. Do yoga. Howl at moon.” 

“You saw all of that?!” Sid sounded astounded, delighted, and embarrassed all at once. Geno threw his head back and laughed. 

“Thought I was crazy obsess! Can’t stop dream about!” 

“No, it was just the bond…before we’d even…and you were…” Sid trailed off thinking, eyes focused on the middle distance. 

“Stop think. Figure out later.” Geno shook him gently to re-draw his attention, ducking to lean his forehead against Sid’s. 

“Right, yeah, we can figure it all out later.” Sid breathed. 

“Everything. Have time.” 

“Forever.” 

—

EPILOGUE

They were walking their usual running route backwards because Sid insisted he had something very important to show Geno. He was practically vibrating with excitement. 

Geno had only been settled into the town for good for a little over a month. That month had consisted of a crash course in werewolves, learning pack politics, meeting the Crosbys (it was a wild ride knowing the potential in-laws were deadly creatures of the night), and figuring out what to do with his life after the FBI. 

Of course there was Sid, always Sid. By now it felt like they’d spent their whole lives together, not just a few paltry weeks. 

“Just a little further.” Geno didn’t think he’d ever seen Sid this excited so far. They were in the historic neighbourhood part of Forks now, just a few streets down from where Flower lived. Geno watched bemused as Sid rushed ahead, standing in front of the dilapidated house on the corner’s gate. 

“What are we come here for, Sid?” He looked up at the house and it’s expansive porch and beautiful detailing. A small flash of unexpected colour caught his attention. Sitting on the sagging porch railing was Geno’s potted cactus. That was definitely not where he’d left it, considering he’d last seen it that morning on Sid’s spare bedside table that Geno had taken over. 

“Wh-”

“Its ours.” Sid turned to look at the house and then back at him.

“What?!” Geno could have sworn he’d misheard him.

“Well, actually, it’s mine. I bought it, but I figured you’d want to live there too, with me. If you want.” Geno didn’t know how Sid could still be so stupid. 

“ _If I’m want._ Of course – Sid of course I’m want.” he reached out to touch the wrought-iron of the gate. 

“We can figure out how to fix it up while you think about what you want to do. Maybe it’ll keep you busy in the mean time.” Sid was talking fast, already making plans a mile a minute, he opened the gate and gestured for Geno to step through ahead of him. 

“I’m see now,” Geno said dryly, “Just want me put to work.” his smile betrayed him as they made their way up the overgrown walk.

“You see right through me, anything to get you off my sofa.” Sid laughed as he followed, and they took their first steps into the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> DVD EXTRAS:
> 
> • Yep, these are Teen Wolf level werewolves. But they can all do a full shift. 
> 
> • Forks, Maine is not a real place. The Forks, Maine is a real place, but it has a population of 37 people, it is indeed known for white water rafting. I chose it because of its proximity to Nova Scotia/Quebec and so I could literally make that Twilight joke
> 
> • Why didn’t they just fly to Maine? TBH I forgot about planes until much later (and that it's actually pretty cheap to fly nationally in the USA, wtf) and then I was too attached to the idea of Geno crying through every MacDonald's in New York state to go back
> 
> • In this universe all the goalies have medical degrees because I said so. Lundqvist is a plastic surgeon. Holtby is a paediatrician by day and a mob medic by night. Both sets of patients get lollipops.
> 
> • Sid's tattoo looks kind of like an 87, it's the Crosby pack crest. When he was born on 8/7/87 they knew he'd be the next/most powerful Alpha they'd have in a hundred years.
> 
> • Soundtrack mood for this fic ended up being Kiss From A Rose by Seal. Also the title lifted from the song And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop by James Vincent McMorrow - which is my favourite werewolf flavoured song


End file.
